Too Cruel For School
by The-Dark-Side-Of-Eden
Summary: Closed due to a series of Death Eater attacks, Hogwarts is no longer open for Hermione's final year. Unwilling to abandon her studies, she returns to her old boarding school only to find there is a mysterious new boy by the name of Tom Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow! Due to a truly overwhelming number of requests for yet another Hermione/ Tom Riddle Jr. Fic I felt it would be terribly ungrateful for me to ignore them. I'm still hoping to shake up the normal remedy for this particular pairing and (as always) keep the characters as true to their intended personalities as possible and largely ignoring the structure of the books so anyone looking for fluff...WRONG WAY- GO BACK!**

**Chapter 1.**

Hermione had just finished answering an excited letter from Ron when an owl came soaring regally into her window and perched atop her wardrobe. It dropped an officially sealed envelope into her lap and flowed back out with window with a majestic swoop. Hermione frowned at the mail and wondered why the ministry was sending her a letter. Anxious to answer her own questions; Hermione tore open the envelope.

_Dear Miss Hermione Jane Granger, _

_The Ministry of Magic regrets to inform you; due to numerous Death Eater attacks and serious threats Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has decreed, for the safety of all students, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry will not be reopening this year. _

_The Ministry understands this poses a serious problem for seventh year students and as compensation a temporary repeal has been placed on the underage wizardry rule; current seventh years will be permitted to use magic, whilst exercising the proper caution when in the company of Muggles. _

_The Minister of Magic and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wish to extend their deepest apologies to all students and staff to whom this decree presents an inconvenience. _

The parchment floated to the floor as Hermione's arm went limp. She could not wrap her capable mind around the truth; Hogwarts would not be opening for her final year.

"It's not possible," Hermione read the letter over and over, hoping it would somehow change. After the thirtieth recital Hermione realised it would be no less true no matter how many times she read those terrible words. "It is possible."

No sooner had the depressing realisation sunk deep in Hermione's chest than another owl came crashing through her window and into her pencil holder. The scraggly creature was instantly recognisable as the Weasley's faithful messenger, Errol. He shook his feathers roughly before dropping the claw prickled letter he clutched at Hermione's fingertips. Opening her desk draw to fish out some owl pellets she kept to feed her friend's pets, she let Errol peck them from her hand before disappearing out the window with a tired hoot.

The letter was, oddly enough, from Harry and written in a rushed scrawl that was barely legible:

_Did you get the Hogwarts letter? Can you believe it? Professor Dumbledore is having dinner with the Weasleys tonight and I'm going to ask some questions; I figure you'd want to be there too so Fred and George are coming to get you tonight. Be ready._

_Love Harry._

Not waiting for her mind to process a million perfectly valid reasons why she shouldn't go and interrogate the Headmaster, Hermione threw clothes and books into a bag before running down the stairs to inform her parents.

"Hogwarts is closing down?" Her mother asked with her usual concerned lilt.

"No, not closing down Mum they just can't let us go back this year because it's too dangerous," Hermione said, pushing her lunch about the plate idly. "But Dumbledore will be with Ron's family tonight and I can ask him what's really going on."

"I don't know pumpkin, you've always had nothing but good things to say about Mr. Dumbledore's judgement why the change of heart?" Mr. Granger asked, his bespectacled eyes glinting over his mug of tea.

Hermione dropped her fork. "Because this is serious; Hogwarts didn't close when Sirius Black was on the loose, they didn't close when the Basilisk first started its hunt and they didn't close when students started disappearing last year. Threats just don't seem explanation enough to close the school after it has withstood all of that."

"I understand sweetheart, but why not let Harry and Ron ask the Headmaster and you can stay here." Her Mum cooed.

"Because Ron and Harry need me to tell them which questions to ask," she sighed. "Please Mum and Dad, I really need to know what is happening. They might not be part of your world, but the people in danger are a huge part of mine."

The Grangers' swapped concerned gazes before Mr. Granger finally sighed, setting his cup down. "You are to take Mr. Dumbledore's word if he says the school is too dangerous to reopen, do you understand?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione's hopes skipped higher.

"Then pack your bags and we'll wait outside with you for the Weasley boys to arrive." Hermione threw her arms around her Father and Mother before dragging her already stuffed suitcase into the foyer and waited with eager eyes.

Her Dad glanced at the suitcase with a wry smile. "That was fast."

Hermione blushed. "Well you know how it is when you're excited, energy and all that."

"Of course."

The family of three waited on the grassed verge for just under an hour, Hermione's parents reminding her of the proper manners when in someone else home, when finally two identical shadows passed overhead. Fred and George landed, both jumping from their broomsticks to pull Hermione into a joyous bear hug between them.

"'Mione!" they cried in unison. "It's been too long."

"Hello," Hermione croaked. "Need air boys."

"Oh yes," Fred and George released their grip and turned to Hermione's parents, shaking their hands in turn.

"Fred and George Weasley, Hermione will be perfectly safe with us." Fred assured them brightly.

"Oh yes, we're brilliant on our broomsticks, aren't we Fred?" George slung Hermione's bag over his shoulder.

"Beyond brilliant." Fred ushered Hermione to his broomstick after she hugged her parents and said her goodbyes.

"Take care pumpkin." Her Dad said softly.

"Be safe sweetheart."

"I will, I love you both," Hermione waved as Fred kicked off and her parents shrunk beneath her the higher they rose. Finally they were out of plain sight of the Muggles below and sped forward across the country.

"Can you believe this business with closing Hogwarts?" Fred asked, his voice just audible over the wind. "They must have been some serious threats."

"Don't be daft Fred; it was more than just threats." George called. "Old Dumbledore isn't chicken enough to close the school because of some nasty letters."

"What else could it be?" Hermione shouted through the hair whipping across her face.

"If it's enough to spook Dumbledore and the Minister, I'll wager it's something big."

Fred scoffed loudly. "I'd believe that of Dumbledore, but Voldemort could conjure a spider to put in the Minister's bathtub and it would cause a red alert."

* * *

The trio arrived at the infamous Weasley residence in good time, a little cold from their sky high ride, but intact and Hermione was greeted with open arms and a mug of hot chocolate being forced upon her by Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm fine really." She insisted with a smile.

"Those boys," Molly huffed. "I told them to take a sweater for you, of all the selfish absent minded bumbling."

"Don't mind her," Ron smirked, leading Hermione up to her room. "She's pretty nervous about Dumbledore coming for dinner."

"Why is he coming for dinner? Harry didn't say in his letter."

Ron dropped Hermione's bags on the floor as Harry appeared in the doorway to hug his friend. "Dad invited him as a thank you; Dumbledore recommended Dad for a promotion."

"He can do that?" Hermione frowned.

"He's going to help arrange the curriculum for Muggle Studies classes at Hogwarts...," Ron's voice faded slightly. "That is when it reopens."

"Have you heard anything?"

Harry shrugged sadly. "No more than you."

"There is no chance Dumbledore would close the school because some Death eaters were running around," Ron snorted, flopping on the bed. "Maybe Lord Voldemort blew up Hogwarts."

"Ron!"

"I'm just saying it's a possibility." Ron backpedalled as Hermione glared at him.

"You shouldn't say things like that," She shook her head, warming her hands by the fireplace that has just crackled to life of its own accord. "What if it were true?"

"I'd owe Professor Trelawney five galleons." Harry and Ron snickered among themselves as Hermione just sighed, summoning an armchair to curl up in. She drifted in and out of consciousness as Harry and Ron played wizards chess behind her, all three silently wondering what they would say to Dumbledore when he arrived. Hermione had begun to wonder if she even wanted an answer, surely there was enough turmoil in the wizarding world, whatever caused Hogwarts to close could not make sleeping any easier.

Her eyes jumped open as the bedroom door creaked ajar an hour later and Mr. Weasley poked his head in the doorway. "Professor Dumbledore is here."

The trio exchanged anxious glances, but straightened their crumpled clothes and made their way slowly downstairs, welcomed by the sounds of idle chitchat from within the kitchen. Hermione instantly recognised the calm float of Dumbledore's voice as the tall, thin statue of the Headmaster came into view. As the elderly wizard laid eyes on his pupils, a benign smile graced his lips and he stood in way of greeting.

"Good evening Miss Granger, Harry, Mr. Weasley," he nodded to each of them in turn before holding out a chair for Hermione. "Ladies first."

"Thank you sir." Hermione smiled weakly, sitting as Dumbledore pushed the chair beneath her. His kindly manner made it all the more difficult for her to gather the courage she would need to get some answers.

"We're all so pleased you could make it tonight Albus," Mr. Weasley beamed. "Aren't we Molly?"

"Oh it's definitely our pleasure," Mrs. Weasley gushed, levitating several platters of colourful meals over the heads of her guest. "Now please, dig in."

"Everything looks delicious Molly." Professor Dumbledore said, eyeing off all of the flamboyant platters; some of the food looking a little cartoonish to be edible and yet he sampled even the strangest looking morsel; never one to seem rude.

"So when will Arthur be starting at Hogwarts?" Molly asked airily, sawing through a pale pink steak.

"As soon as the Muggle studies department is in condition," Dumbledore answered vaguely. "There have been some considerable setbacks this year."

"So we've noticed." Fred said pointedly, earning a glare from his Mother.

"It's a bit hard to miss." George chimed in.

"That's enough out of both of you," Arthur turned to Dumbledore with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry about them."

"It's perfectly fine Arthur; they have every right to be concerned with Hogwarts' closure this year."

"I think it's more a case of being curious Professor," Hermione said softly, spying her opening. "I don't mean any offence, but you can't expect us to believe it is just because of Death Eater threats."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled in mixture of concentration and what looked like pride. "No, I suppose I can't."

"So why is it closed?" Harry asked bluntly.

Dumbledore lowered his fork gently on his plate before resting his chin on folded hands. "I did want to tell you all the truth in your letters, but I could not risk them being delivered to the wrong student. Recent events during the schools' holiday closure have led me to believe reopening would out staff and students in grave danger."

Hermione's ears pricked up. "What events?"

Catching the bright girl's eyes, Albus Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Nicholas and The Bloody Barron have been destroyed."

Ron choked on a mouthful of bright purple food, coughing it onto his plate. "They've what?" he rasped.

"They have been destroyed," Dumbledore repeated. "The grounds have been searched time and time again, Professor Trelawney can detect no sign of their aura and they have not responded to the call of any professor. As I'm sure you know the disappearance of ghosts can only be a bad omen."

While Molly and Arthur swapped panicked glances, Fred and George looked more worried than anyone had seen them. "Just because you can't find them doesn't mean they're gone, does it?" Fred asked weakly.

Dumbledore bowed his head solemnly. "I'm afraid we have been left with no other answer."

Hermione felt tears prickled behind her eyes as she thought of the many midnight conversations she had shared with Nearly Headless Nick in the library; being one of the only students to show him the respect he craved they shared a very congenial friendship. "How can they be gone...They're ghosts?" she whispered.

"Only the purest evil can unsettle those who have already passed," Dumbledore's tone was very grave and sank heavily in their hearts. "I can only assume that Lord Voldemort has at last gained at least a partial hold on the Hogwarts castle."

"B-But he can't have!" Harry protested. "Hogwarts is the safest place in the world; there is no way he could corrupt it."

"No ward is perfect." The Headmaster lamented.

"Professor...Will Hogwarts _ever_ reopen?" Hermione asked the lingering question everyone had found bouncing around their minds and the atmosphere surrounding the table fell silent.

Dumbledore held Hermione's gaze, whether he was trying comfort her or question her she was not sure, and his twilight blue eyes lost their sparkle. "At this moment in time, I cannot say."

"Hogwarts can't close down." Ron sulked.

"Isn't there anything you can do? That building is full of the best witches and wizards in England." George asked incredulously.

"We are trying young Mr. Weasley I can promise that," Dumbledore smiled at his eagerness. "But it is a large castle with many wards and unfortunately it is not unlike finding the one faulty twinkle light in a five mile string."

"But you can find it, eventually?"

"That is our hope."

"Hope?" Ron snorted. "That's it?"

"Ronald!" Molly screeched. "You do _not_ talk to your Headmaster that way."

Ron's ears flushed a violent shade of red, but once more Dumbledore held up his thin hand. "Please Molly, don't be mad. Their frustration is understandable and I do wish I had more satisfying answers to your questions, but at this moment that is the best I have to offer."

"What are we to do this year?" Harry asked moping over his untouched dinner.

"I can suggest no more than attending your old schools." Dumbledore's suggestion was met with glares from Harry and Ron, but Hermione could think of worse ideas.

"I've never been to any other school." Ron snapped.

"And I _wish_ I'd never been any other school." Harry groaned.

"I wouldn't mind going back to my school...," Hermione said softly, avoiding Harry and Ron's sharp stares. "I mean, if there was no other option."

The remainder of dinner was spend in scattered questions, Molly snapping at her children and Arthur staring into his plate with tired abandon. Finally the dishes were cleared and, while the Weasley children and Harry received a lecture from both parents on proper manners, Dumbledore asked Hermione if she would join him for a walk around the Burrow.

The young Gryffindor and her Headmaster strolled slowly through the calf-high grass and watched as all manner of fireflies and tiny birds flew into the night. "Are you all right Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked after several minutes wandering in silence.

"I think so," Hermione frowned. "I just can't believe Hogwarts won't be open for our final year..."

"I am truly sorry, but we could not risk the lives of the students."

"I understand Professor, really I do, but I just don't understand Lord Voldemort's motives for getting rid of the ghosts."

Dumbledore glanced down at his shining student. "How do you mean ?"

Hermione shrugged, clearly struggling to arrange her thoughts. "I just don't understand why, if he had gained that kind of access to the castle, he chose to get rid of the ghosts; why not do something more destructive?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "You really are the brightest witch of your age Hermione."

She blushed at the compliment, but tried to hide it with a thoughtful glance. "What makes you say that Professor?"

"That is precisely the question the other Professors and I have been pondering since the disappearances; we have not come up with a plausible answer yet," they sat on a somewhat rusted garden seat. "All logic suggests Lord Voldemort would have utilised any means at his disposal to debilitate Hogwarts if he could."

"But she just got rid of two ghosts," Hermione sighed. "It doesn't make much sense."

"The motives of evil rarely do. Do you know what you will do this year?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject before Hermione could frustrate herself over the myriad of unanswered questions.

Hermione leant back on the bench, sitting back up as the flaking metal scratched uncomfortably at her back. "I think I'll go back to my old boarding school; most of my Muggle friends are still there."

"Do you think Harry and Ron would join you?"

She couldn't suppress a cynical scoff from jerking free. "I doubt it; Harry and Ron aren't interested in learning at the best of times, let alone if it has no magical implications."

Dumbledore smiled softly, knowing that Hermione was right. "Boys will be boys."

"I think that's just an over sentimentalised cop out for being genetically programmed with the attention span of a hummingbird." Hermione mused with a soft giggle.

"I would not be surprised."

"And what about you Professor," Hermione looked up at the gracious old wizard. "What will you do this year?"

Dumbledore's eyes glanced up at the blanket of stairs staring down at them. "Search for answers to a lifetimes supply of questions." He said absently.

Hermione nodded, raising from the bench as the emotional rollercoaster of the day began to take its toll. "I hope you find them sir, and if I can help in any way you will let me know, won't you?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more as he stood before Hermione. "You have my word." With a warm hug from her Headmaster, Hermione said her goodnights and crept her way up the echoing stairs to bed. Sleep came quickly to her, shadowed by too many confusing thoughts to allow a dreamless rest. She spent the night tossing and turning, fighting off the theories behind Lord Voldemort's oddly precise attack, each more unsettling than the last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

**A/N: I know the first chapter was rather slow and this one is a tad short, but I promise the fun bits will be falling into place quite early so just bear with me.**

_Sleep came quickly to her, shadowed by too many confusing thoughts to allow a dreamless rest. She spent the night tossing and turning, fighting off the theories behind Lord Voldemort's oddly precise attack, each more unsettling than the last. _

* * *

As she has suspected, Ron and Harry did not relish the idea of joining Hermione at her boarding school back home for the year and, with fevered promises to visit, she said her goodbyes at the Burrow and returned home to start her first year back at Muggle school. There was something fondly nostalgic about buying exercise books, regular pens and a dozen more highlighters than she would ever need. Hermione found it hard to ignore her parent's joy in their daughter returning to a normal life, although she would still be out of home for most of the year, she would be closer than before. The two weeks before classes began seemed to whizz by and soon Hermione was on the train to St. Ida's; a unisex boarding school two hours from her home.

Hermione had no trouble finding her best friend on the train and as the train arrived at the ivy covered campus, she felt at home in a way she had not experienced in years. No one here would shun her for her blood, nor would they try to curse her for any little mistake; it was a simpler world. It was not to say Hermione had grown tired of magic, but there was something to be said for honest Muggle tactics. Dragging her cases up the four flights to her dorm room, Hermione heaved a tired sigh and flopped onto the navy blue bed.

"Still about as comfortable as a bag of bricks." She groaned.

"Were you expecting anything else?" Venna, Hermione's best friend since grade four, sneered.

"No, but a girl can hope."

"A girl can hope to sprout wings and fly, but that probably won't happen either."

Hermione suppressed a giggle, thinking about the many hours she had spent flying around on her broomstick and dove into unpacking. "Is Mr. Horton still the drama teacher?"

"Of course and he's as lecherous as ever."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Venna threw a small stack of black knee-length skirts into a chest of drawers unceremoniously. "Because a slimy lizard never changes its scales, are you taking drama this year?"

"Yeah, even if Horton is a letch I still love drama."

"Me too, at least I'll have a witness for the molestation trial."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Hermione smirked. "I don't fancy having my name on police record."

"If I recall from two holidays ago, you already do."

The girls continued to catch up as they slowly unpacked their clothes and books, several of which were spell books Hermione had charmed to look like Shakespeare and Chaucer, before opting to head down to the twelfth grade common room.

"Any new players I need to know about?' Hermione asked as she and Venna flopped into an unnecessarily squishy couch, nearly being swallowed by its cushy embrace.

"Just the usual really, Christine and Donna are the token bitches and Adrian thinks he is God's gift to anything with a pulse."

Hermione sighed at the memories of the blonde, baby faced soccer player. "What a waste of skill that git is."

"No arguments," Venna suddenly jumped onto her knees, fixing Hermione with a bright eyed stare she knew could only come from one topic; boys. "Oh but I did hear that you're not the only newbie to start your twelfth year here."

"A new boy?" Hermione groaned.

"Yes! And apparently he's quite the mystery, no one has heard of him before and he's an orphan, but apparently very, _very_ wealthy."

"Venna you've been watching too much television," she snickered. "He's just going to be another guy, possibly a sulky one."

Venna huffed, sinking back down beside her friend. "You've just got no sense of romance."

"That must be it."

* * *

Hermione found time to pour over a few spell books before being dragged down to a lukewarm dinner fished out from under heating lamps. As she pushed the grey slop around her plate, Hermione found herself craving the extravagant feasts in the Great Hall.

"Not hungry?" Venna asked, poking her vegetables with a look of extreme suspicion.

"Something like that."

"I don't blame you; I don't really fancy biting something that might bite back."

Hermione smiled weakly before pushing the plate away and excusing herself. "I'm pretty tired from the train ride so I might just have an early night."

"Okay, I'm going to do a few laps, but I'll be there in an hour or so." Hermione nodded, knowing Venna had always been dedicated to swimming, and she wandered down the wood panelled hall and out into the grounds. St. Ida had beautiful grounds for the students; an ornate fountain featuring a particularly chubby cherub centred trimmed hedge borders and blooming, aromatic roses. A rainbow flower bed surrounded carefully placed benches and pond to the far left of the school babbled happily with the splashes of large goldfish and the occasional frog.

Hermione sighed as she sat on the edge of the fountain, running her fingers idly through the water, lost in her homesick thoughts of Ron and Harry. They had asked her to say back at the Burrow with them, but Hermione knew they would be of no use there; if Dumbledore needed them he could find her at St. Ida's without sacrificing a year of school. She was drawn from her priority debate by the wash of headlights shining from the car park a few yards away. Hermione watched as the figure of a driver opened the back door for a tall, lean shadow which took in a quick survey of its surrounds before walking, with long confident strides, into the administration office. Her lips curled softly as Hermione realised that she had probably just witnessed the arrival of Venna's mystery man.

"How fitting." She smirked to herself before laying on the fountain edge, losing herself among the stars. She found it impossible to keep track of time, her eyes widening as she glanced at the garden clock to find she had been lying under the stone cherub for no less than two hours. Sad to leave the comfort of the garden, Hermione raced back up to the room she shared with Venna, only to find said roommate was absent and no doubt had lost track of the hours herself.

Since she did not have classes until the following Monday Hermione left the room once more and decided to reacquaint herself with the once memorised school halls. First she jumped in the shower, tired of the travellers cling her clothes had adopted and slipped into a simple white tank top, a small black jacket and jeans for her night time wandering. Although there was very little St. Ida could hold over Hogwarts, Hermione did enjoy the freedom to roam the halls at all hours, providing the students did not leave the grounds. Shoving her hands on her pockets the young witch out of water smiled gently as memories came flooding back with every classroom door and cracked panelling.

The library was quite pathetic compared to Hogwarts, the class rooms were nowhere near as compelling and even the bathrooms lacked the rustic charm of her other school. Hermione tried to stop comparing every little thing with the shining beacon that was Hogwarts when she finally reached the stairs on the other side of the school that led to the boys' dormitory. With a soft sigh, Hermione sat on the bottom stair, resting her head on the wall as she allowed the drafty halls to whistle a familiar lullaby. As her eyelids began their telltale droop Hermione found herself very much awake as footsteps began to pad closer from the hall to her right. Out of instinct, her hand shot to her back pocket but found it wandless as the shadow drew closer to her spot on the steps.

Hermione's tangoing heart settled in her chest as a familiar voice called out. "Hermione, is that you?"

She laughed quietly as Venna's pool soaked head peered around the hallway arch. "Dear Merl...God Venna you scared the hell out of me."

"Likewise," she wandered up to Hermione, scrubbing her hair dry with a tartan coloured towel. "What are you doing creeping around so late, I thought you went to bed?"

"Couldn't sleep." Hermione shrugged.

"Well nor will I now; I thought you were a prowler," Venna nodded in the direction of the dorms. "Let's go to bed."

"A prowler in St. Ida's?" Hermione sniggered. "What would they see, stairs, hairnets and possibly Mrs. Creasley stalking around in her big knickers?"

"That was a mental image I could have done without."

"Misery loves company."

Venna and Hermione threw their pillows on the floor and sat either side of a Rosewood candle Venna had smuggled in her bag of clothes. They snacked on lollies while chatting about the pointless and the useless until Venna suddenly threw down a half eaten strawberries and cream.

"Where did you go?" she demanded abruptly, catching Hermione off guard.

"Wh-what?" she coughed, nearly inhaling a red jelly-baby.

"Where have you been all these years, I don't buy for a second that you went travelling with an estranged Uncle."

"I don't know what to tell you Venna," Hermione said honestly. "I'm sorry."

"I've known you since we were in nappies Hermione and I know you wouldn't miss school for any reason, especially not to go high stepping it around the country with a mystery Uncle, so where were you?" Venna's sage green eyes were fixed on Hermione and she was not deviating from her demands.

"...Venna I...,"

"No more lies Hermione!"

She took a deep breath and Hermione looked at Venna's stern face through the flickering candlelight. Her soft, Greek features were hardened with suspicion and Hermione felt bad for lying to her best friend for all these years. "I was at another school."

"What school, where?"

"Not far, it was a school for...gifted students." Hermione felt her conscience twinge at the shades of grey.

Venna's brow creased. "Why did you come back this year?"

"Someone vandalised the school, pretty badly and they weren't allowed to reopen this year."

"...Why didn't you just tell me this over the holidays Hermione?"

She shrugged pathetically. "I honestly don't know, I guess I didn't want you to think I was abandoning you."

Venna's lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "And all of those souvenirs you brought back?"

"Gift shops around London."

"Probably explains the Made in England stickers you left on some of them." Venna laughed, giggling into hear hands and, after a beat of shock, Hermione joined in; wondering how she had gotten away with the charade for so long.

Hermione smiled to herself as she said goodnight to Venna and laid, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of her roommates breathing slowly became lighter. She considered going for another wander into the garden, but the idea of being caught by the old hag of a caretaker, Mrs. Creasley was a little too much to bear. And so Hermione settled for mentally joining all the cracks in the ceiling into something relatively like a Van Gough painting.

* * *

Seriously considering hexing Venna to the ends of the Earth as she threw open the curtain and allowed morning light to seer into her eyes, Hermione threw the covers over her head and groaned irately.

"Oh come on we haven't got long before school starts, you don't want to sleep the time away do you?" Venna smacked Hermione's legs as she skipped past into the bathroom. Hermione poked her tongue out from under the covers and rolled over, hoping to grasp back the little sleep she had. As the room began to soften with sleep Venna happily popped that bubble by ripping the covers from her bed.

"Up, up, up!" she chimed, bouncing at the foot of Hermione's mattress.

"If you like your lips being in the vicinity of your mouth I would leave before I rip them off and feed them to the pigeons." She mumbled.

"All the more reason to get up now before the pigeons leave." Venna smiled in her irritatingly bubbly way before bounding to her dresser and humming over her outfit possibilities for the day.

After one last pillow to the head Hermione rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, using a freezing cold shower to wake herself up. Wrapping her hair in a towel she found Venna waiting for her in a multicoloured shirt and hot pink jeans. She couldn't stop herself from bursting into fits of laughter, throwing the damp towel to the floor as she opened her own wardrobe.

"What's so funny?" Venna demanded sulkily.

"No, nothing, nothing at all."

"C'mon tell me...,"

"Nothing I just didn't know looking like a rainbow on cocaine was in fashion now," Hermione pulled a simple white t-shirt with a flattering v-neck cut. "But if anyone can pull it off..."

"Oh and what do you suggest Mrs. Fashion?" Venna smirked gesturing to Hermione's white shirt and black pants. "The plainer the better?"

"There is something to be said for simplicity." Hermione said proudly, slipping a denim vest over the shirt.

"And there is something to be said for adventurous." Agreeing to disagree the two girls wandered into the hall for breakfast.

"Any word on the new boy yet?" Venna whispered to a scrawny blonde girl in the canteen line.

"Apparently he arrived late last night, under cover of darkness," she melted. "But no one has seen him yet, hopefully he'll be introduced during the new year introductions."

The girls dropped their trays down with a lack of enthusiasm and Hermione groaned. "Oh Merl...God they don't still do this, do they?"

"Unfortunately yes, I think Crabwell just likes the sound of her own voice."

Hermione sneered. "She'd be the only one."

They giggled among themselves as the hall came to gentle hush as only the chalkboard voice of Head Mistress Crabwell was to be heard, much to the student's dismay. She was a short, bony woman with small cruel eyes and blue-grey hair pulled tight behind her head in a no-nonsense bun. For as long as Hermione had been at St. Ida's she had been the Head and the only thing every year that came and went from the school shared, was utter disdain for her.

"Silence now, silence before you all begin eating I would like you to welcome our new class of first years." She screeched into the whistling microphone and the hall rumbled in forced applause as the youngest faces blushed and dipped with small waves and smiles. "And would you all please welcome back Miss Hermione Granger, who left us in her seventh year and to our new student joining us for his final year, Mr. Thomas Riddle."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_And would you all please welcome back Miss Hermione Granger, who left us in her seventh year and to our new student joining us for his final year, Mr. Thomas Riddle." _

* * *

If there was any other sound in the hall besides the thumping of Hermione's heart against her rib cage, she did not hear it. The name rang in her ears like church bells in a hurricane; _Thomas Riddle, Thomas Riddle, Thomas Riddle._

"It can't be." She breathed weakly as a boy, several tables across stood nodding to the hall before sinking back to his chair.

"Oh he looks cute." Venna whispered, her grin dropping as she saw Hermione's goldfish expression. "What's wrong?"

"I...I...I have to go," Hermione suddenly swung her legs over the bench and left the hall with a brisk step, trying not to draw attention to herself. She barely made it to the cherub fountain before Venna's hand closed around her arm.

"Hermione, what is it?" she asked, concern dripping from every syllable. "Why did you run out like that?"

"I didn't run."

"Hermione...,"

She dropped onto the edge of the fountain, staring into her wobbly reflection in the babbling water. "I just needed some air that's all."

"Bollocks."

"Venna!"

"Well it is."

Hermione sighed, her mind buzzing a million miles an hour with explanations, denial and trying not to hyperventilate. "That boy...His name, he has the same name as boy at my other school. H-He was a real git that's all."

Unimpressed with her explanation, but not wanting to upset her friend Venna just nodded and sat beside Hermione in silence. The girls wallowed in their own thoughts as the water splashed lightly on their arms, but Hermione didn't notice. She probably wouldn't have noticed if the water turned to acid and all that was left was a skeletal arm; Thomas Riddle was ample distraction. She had not seen the boy properly when he stood, just a shock of jet black hair and pale skin before he disappeared among the other boys again. Naturally Hermione had no real basis to identify him off; just what Ginny had described to her from her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets.

"So far it fits." She whispered.

"What fits?"

Hermione jumped, having forgotten Venna was just a few inches away. "Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts, was thinking about my story...How I went travelling and if anyone else would get suspicious but so far it all fits together nicely." She lied quickly before standing up. "Come on, shall we go watch the football match?"

"You watching the football match?" Venna snorted. "What have you done with the real Hermione?"

"Oh very funny, come on I haven't seen one for years."

"Don't they have sport at your other school?"

"...Not football." Hermione smirked.

"You do realise we will have to put up with Christine and the others cheering like bobble-heads for Adrian?"

"Are you coming or not?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Venna jumped up and they walked arm and arm through the garden gate and to the spectator stands surrounding the pitch. "You just can't think of anything better to do, can you?"

"Couldn't it just be that I'm trying to rekindle my school spirit...I'm bored out of my mind."

"Thought so."

They found their old seats towards the centre of the stands, squishing together as the other students filed into the see the traditional Saturday morning game. "Well, well Hermione Granger as I live and breathe." A smug tone came from behind her.

"Oh tell me it's not...," Hermione looked to Venna who glanced behind them.

"It is."

"Damn it."

"My, my you've filled out well."

"Aren't you supposed to be playing, Adrian?" Hermione groaned, not bothering to face him.

"Pulled a hamstring over the holidays, the doc told me to stay off it for another fortnight, but he didn't say anything about other people climbing on." she could practically hear his eyebrows waggling.

"I'm sure Christine is thrilled to hear it."

"Oh, I think you'll find I've changed since you left...I'm much more _flexible_."

Hermione stood, turning to stare at Adrian with utter indifference, completely missing the dark haired boy a few rows back watching the scene unfold. "Well you'd have to be to get your head lodged so far up your arse."

Walking with a giggling Venna in tow, Hermione left Adrian glaring after her and nearly bumped into Christine and her venomous hangers-on on her way back to the gardens.

"That was brilliant!" Venna cheered once they were out of earshot and reminding Hermione painfully of Ron's cheerful outbursts.

She forced a smile. "Thanks."

"I don't want to sound like a cow or anything, but would you mind if I went back to watch the game?' Venna asked, crossing her fingers with a desperately sorry look on her face.

"Of course not, have fun." With an excited squeal and a kiss on the cheek Venna ran back to the pitch and left Hermione, thankfully alone, to decipher her rampant thoughts. Most of the school was watching the male students kick a patchwork ball around the grass, letting out the occasional roar, and Hermione wanted no part of it. She had hoped to find an excuse to sneak away from Venna during the game and Adrian had proved himself useful, for once.

"There's a first for everything." She smirked, closing her eyes as her fingers dipped into the fountain water.

"I assume talking to yourself is not one of them." A drawling male voice broke Hermione's solitude and she had no time for whoever was intruding.

"I crave intelligent company so I have very little choice, do I?" she muttered flatly.

"That Adrian boy seemed somewhat eager to be in your company." The voice sneered pointedly and Hermione found herself getting cranky, but stayed still and calm.

"Adrian is eager to be in the company of anything that is female and has a pulse."

"Look at me." The command was concrete and cold.

Hermione frowned at the sky. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said look at me."

"No thanks."

There was a tense silence that filled the garden and Hermione realised that her once limp hand in the water was now a firmly clenched fist. It did her no good as a shadow suddenly rested over her face and she chanced to open her eyes, staring straight up into the ashen, handsome face of Tom Riddle.

Hermione gasped, sitting bolt upright and shifting away. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

Riddle didn't bother to answer her as his emerald eyes attempted to drill into her mind only to find it perfectly guarded and no more to decipher than a faint hum and the blur of colours. It peaked his curiosity as to how a Muggle could possibly protect their thoughts so thoroughly.

"You know what, I don't care," Hermione said, hoping she sounded confident. "I'm leaving." She stood and walked towards the school doors, but stopped mid-step as Tom Riddle blocked her way.

"I don't recall saying you could leave."

"I don't recall asking permission."

Hermione tried to step past the young Lord Voldemort, but he matched her move with a constant masked expression. She sighed, stepping back and fixing him with a tired glare and was annoyed to find she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes as Tom Riddle stood at least a head taller.

His eyes ran over her body, she was average height with subtle curves and a classically beautiful face that was lit by her sparkling eyes. Riddle found himself admitting she wasn't bad to look at; for a Muggle.

"Are you planning on moving sometime today?' Hermione asked, her voice shaking slightly as her fear became harder to contain.

The shake did not go unnoticed by Tom and he smirked. "Are you frightened?"

Her stomach twitched uncomfortably. "Why would I be frightened?" she asked simply.

"I think perhaps you should tell me." Riddle slowly advanced on Hermione as she backed towards the fountain.

"It's your theory, not mine."

"Why would you be afraid of someone you have just met?" Tom Riddle's eyes flashed maliciously as he continued to creep closer to a clearly shaken Hermione. Although he had not yet figured why the girl was so dazed by him, Riddle didn't care; there was something very alluring about the way she carried herself even when she was cornered.

"Who said I'm afraid of you?"

"Must you always answer a question with a question?"

"Must you?" Hermione squeaked as the back of her knees brushed against the cold jagged stone of the fountain and her insides froze as she saw the grin on Riddle's face when he realised he had her.

"You have still failed to answer my first question; are you frightened Hermione?"

Her name sounded odd on his lips and Hermione didn't like it. "How do you know my name?"

"That Neanderthal Adrian was kind enough to mention it for me to hear and now that you have run out of escapes," Tom leant close to Hermione, so much that she had to sit on the stone ledge to avoid their noses touching, but this of course allowed him to lean over the fuming girl. "Tell me Hermione, are you frightened?"

"Only that I'll kick you so hard I'll break something and have to deal with Mistress Crabwell," She hissed. "Now if you would get out of my way...,"

Riddle didn't budge and Hermione knew better than to follow through on her threat or to reveal any kind of magical ability, he seemed thus far unaware she was a witch. "I shall allow you to leave when you answer my question."

"You don't _allow_ me to do anything; I am not one of your followers." Hermione seethed and immediately wished she hadn't and cursed herself further as Riddle's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Not waiting for the next round of uncomfortable questions, Hermione quickly slipped under his arms and ran through the doors, knowing while she did that Riddle had allowed her to leave and it irked her to know he knew it.

* * *

Tom Riddle watched with dark amusement as Hermione fled from him, it was a sight he had always enjoyed. As he sidled back to his single dorm room he had not expected to find a suspect on his first day in the Muggle infested hell hole and yet there she had been, laying beneath a baby angel, in all her self-righteous glory; the perfect candidate to stop his demise.

"My Lord, My Lord is that you?" A nervous voice came from the doorway that Riddle recognised as his future follower, Lucius Malfoy.

"It is Malfoy," he said, standing in front of the fireplace. "I assume there is an exceptional reason for presuming I would allow your presence."

"W-Well yes my Lord, I just wanted to inform you that the potion has finally been completed."

"Very well, go see to the preparations and make sure you leave no loose ends that could turn into rumour, do you understand?"

"Perfectly my Lord, may I ask a question before I go?"

"You may, I am in good humour."

"Have you had any luck locating the girl?"

"Luck does not factor into my endeavours Malfoy, only skill," Riddle smirked arrogantly. "And you would do well to remember it."

"Of course my Lord, I apologise."

"And I have found a candidate as it happens, a Muggle named Hermione Granger."

Lucius coughed awkwardly apparently choking on his own surprise. "Hermione Granger, my Lord?"

"Something you need to tell me Lucius?"

"It's just Hermione Granger is, or rather was, a student at Hogwarts. Draco has often spoke of her; a Mudblood my Lord, but by all evidence an exceedingly capable one."

Riddle smiled, his lips curling into a self-satisfied grin. "Is she indeed?"

"One of Harry Potter's sidekicks, she is reputed to be the brains of the trio; could she really be the one my Lord, after all she is a Mudblood?"

"Ah so she is Potter's brains that I have heard so much about. A Mudblood was my downfall Lucius, a filthy Mudblood was the one who found and nearly destroyed my final Horcrux."

"And you believe that it was Hermione Granger?"

"She is a Mudblood and has already proved herself capable of a challenge," Riddle smirked as he thought of her encounter with the cretin Adrian. "I did not see the girl who found my Horcrux, all I know of her is her blood was filthy; I could feel it when she touched that fragment of my soul."

"Well Granger is likely my Lord after all the seeking charm did lead you to her Muggle school," Lucius said thoughtfully. "Could there be another witch that attracted the signal?"

"Clearly it is too soon to tell," Riddle sighed.

"Of course my Lord."

"Oh and Lucius," Riddle said, turning his back to the flames and fixing his deep emerald eyes of Lucuis. "Don't ever assume your presence is welcome again, understood?"

"Of...Of course my Lord."

* * *

Hermione slammed the door shut, dropping to her knees on the floor and taking frantic deep breaths as her head spun dangerously. She had just faced Tom Riddle, in her time, she had come face to face with Tom Riddle.

"Dumbledore." Hermione scrambled to her desk and snatched a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling a hurried note of warning to the Headmaster before leaning out of the dorm window and whistling sharply. It took only thirty seconds of waiting before a dusky brown barn owl, that Hermione had given a home in the rafters of the balcony, came to a halt on her arm.

"Good boy Apollo," Hermione petted the soft faced owl. "Take this to Professor Dumbledore, quick as you can." With a quick jerk of her arm, the owl took flight and was soon lost in the tree tops lining the school to the south.

She dropped back to the floor, resting her head on her raised knees as she tried to gather her thoughts together, but there was little hope to be had. _Get a grip girl, that can't be Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort is still alive and doesn't need his younger self...But if he did, why would he? What would he be doing here? How does he not know I'm a witch? Does he know?_

Hermione's thoughts were snapped by a short, loud scream that she soon realised from coming from her own lips. The young witch clamped a hand over her mouth and allowed warm, confused tears to streak down her face and pad onto her vest. "Get a grip girl." She whispered aloud. Coming to terms with the fact she would continue floating in confusion until someone confirmed she was insane, Hermione tugged the phone cable down beside her and quickly punched in the number for the phone Arthur Weasley had installed the previous Summer out of curiosity.

Only four rings later a familiar, sleepy voice croaked through the line. "'Ello?"

"Ronald Weasley, do not tell me you are still in bed at this hour." Hermione smiled.

"'Mione, is that you?" Ron's voice perked up immediately.

"It's me, look Ron I need to talk to you and Harry about something and it's pretty urgent." She dove straight into the point.

"Uh, all right I'll get Harry on the other string."

"Line, Ron."

"Whatever."

There was some faint yelling in the background before a pinging beep and Harry's cheerful voice told Hermione he had been out playing early morning Quidditch again. "Hermione! Ready to come back already?" he chirped.

"Maybe," she sighed. "I need to tell you boys something and I need you not to laugh when I so, promise?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"...Tom Riddle is at my school." There was a silence on the twin ends of the line, broken only by the hum of the telephone connection and Hermione's feared they were holding in hysterical giggles at her expense. "Boys?" she whispered faintly.

"We're here." Harry breathed. "Hermione...Tom Riddle can't be at your school."

"I know that," she snapped. "But he is, I swear he is."

"'Mione are you feeling okay?" Ron's voice was unusually slow as though he was speaking to a child.

"I'm not sick Ron at least I don't think so, but I am telling the truth there is a new boy at my school, an orphan with black hair, pale skin and named Thomas Riddle. Tell me that's just a coincidence."

Harry cleared his throat. "Have you contacted Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, I owled him just a minute ago."

"But how could it be Tom Riddle? Voldemort is in full power we know that, there is no need for him to bother with echoes anymore." Ron reasoned and Hermione was not sure whose benefit it was for.

"Maybe it's not an echo...," Harry suggested faintly. "I mean Voldemort does know how to fix a Horcrux, it's not totally mad to think he would know how to make himself look younger."

Hermione's blood ran cold and she felt her fingers lose their grip, she hadn't considered that it was Lord Voldemort just using glamour. She had just had a verbal joust with the most evil wizard of her time and ran away from it. "Oh Merlin...,"

"Hermione? Hermione?" Harry's calls made Hermione shake her head.

"Y-Yeah I'm here, just thinking...,"

"Don't freak yourself out 'Mione," Ron said. "This could all just be some weird kind of coincidence."

"Don't condescend to me Ron."

"He is right though Hermione; there is no sense in scaring yourself, but keep your guard up until you hear from Dumbledore. We'll see what we can find out about what Voldemort has been doing from this end."

Hermione suddenly felt a swell of gratitude towards her friends, bumbling though they may be at times, they were always there when she really needed. "Thank you boys...really."

"Anything for you Hermione, you know that." Harry's smile was almost audible.

"We'll let you know what we find." Ron and Harry said their goodbyes as Hermione hung up the phone and stared at the receiver as though hoping it would shout out answers to her any minute. Unfortunately the phone was less than helpful and Hermione kicked it childishly before placing back on the desk with new shoe marks on the dial pad. Hermione lay on her bed for next few minutes, contemplating the likelihood of going back to the garden and finding Tom Riddle gone and, as she suspected the room was beginning to shrink, decided it was worth the risk. Fixing her vest and marching confidently down the stairs she found all of her determination leaving in an abrupt puff as she faced the doors that led to the grounds. Her hands twitched uncomfortably as she thought of opening the arched doors and quickly decided that, as small as it was, the library seemed infinitely more inviting at that moment.

Hermione curled herself up in the furthest booth with a book on the human anatomy, having found herself fascinated with the subject in her earlier years before Hogwarts. As her eyes flitted over lists of symptoms for various tropical diseases when a hand suddenly appeared on the top of the pages, pulling the book from her grasp. Her glaring cinnamon orbs landed on Adrian Simmons infuriating blonde head as she attempted to snatch her book back only to have it jerked out of reach.

"You should learn to ask nicely Hermione." He sneered lecherously.

"And you should learn when you're not wanted," she hissed back. "Give me the book back."

Adrian raised the book above his head. "That wasn't nice."

"Just keep the stupid book then, I don't have time for you." Hermione slid out of the other end of the booth and wandered back down the anatomy and biology section of the library. As she reached out for yet another volume her wrist was snatched by a familiar hand and Hermione spun around venomously. "Get your hand off me Adrian."

"Oh come on Hermione, you don't have to pretend. I know you want me, all the girls here do."

Hermione scrunched her nose in disgust. "Then go harass one of them."

"You're the lucky girl this time; as I said you've filled out very nicely since you've been gone. I remember when you were that bushy haired little bookworm we used to tease and now...Now you're a real looker." By the smug look on his face, Adrian was clearly under the impression he had paid Hermione a great compliment, she didn't think so.

"And you're still the same arrogant prick that I remember from all those years ago." Hermione jerked her arm suddenly, breaking free of his grasp. Adrian looked truly shocked by the rejection and Hermione might have felt sorry for him if not for the fact he was a total creep. So she settled for turning her back on him and pulling out the closest book to her head before snuggling back into her booth.

"You'll come around." Adrian slammed his hands down on the table separating the two. "They always come around."

"Sorry Adrian, I don't have Daddy issues."Adrian huffed before spinning in a flip of golden blonde hair and lumbering out the door, leaving Hermione feeling somewhat proud. "Twice in one day, not bad."

"I wouldn't consider outwitting someone of Adrian's mental capabilities anything to be proud of." Yet another conceited male voice forced Hermione to drop her head onto the book.

"When did a library stop being a place of silence and learning?" she groaned, her voice muffled by the pages.

"When did the Alpha males of a mug---boarding school become subject to rejection?"

Hermione's memory suddenly emerged from its seething and gave her a quick shock to remind her she had heard that cultured, pompous voice before. She removed the book from her face and saw Tom Riddle staring at her from his place against a nearby bookshelf. "Oh you again." she sighed unwittingly.

The wizard cocked a dark eyebrow. "You find me burdensome?"

"Don't sugar coat it," Hermione snapped her book shut. "I find you irritating down to the bone."

Using his sudden appearance to his advantage, Riddle had managed to peek into Hermione's temporarily unguarded mind before she became aware of presence and her mental walls rebuilt instantly. The lapse was just long enough for him to spot some clear magical knowledge and indeed ability tucked away and he knew he had found his Mudblood meddler.

His smirk unsettled Hermione and she found herself pushing as far back as the booth would allow when Tom Riddle slithered closer. "You know who I am."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_The lapse was just long enough for him to spot some clear magical knowledge and indeed ability tucked away and he knew he had found his Mudblood meddler. _

_His smirk unsettled Hermione and she found herself pushing as far back as the booth would allow when Tom Riddle slithered closer. "You know who I am."_

* * *

Hermione's heart froze in her chest, but thankfully she did not allow the shock to reach her features, instead she managed a semi-convincing confused frown. "You're the new twelfth year boy?" she said slowly.

Tom chuckled deep within his throat and the sound sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "It will do you no good to lie to someone who can see inside your mind." He reminded her.

"Okay then," Hermione said, trying to sound as patronising as possible. "Well good luck with that psychic thing and I'll see you around." Knowing she would not slip past him again, Hermione just raised her book to block the young Dark Lord from her sight and prayed her frantic hopes alone would make him disappear. They didn't.

The book was reduced to a pile of ash in front of Hermione as she shrieked, the heat burning her fingertips. "You cannot simply ignore me Miss Granger." Riddle said softly, but clearly.

"I can try."

"You know who I am," he repeated. "And I know exactly who you are."

Hermione shrugged. "Well we were both announced at breakfast, it's not that farfetched."

"Hermione Granger I know you are a Mudblood and you know I am the Dark Lord of the wizarding world."

"That's fairly inescapable," She hissed, her hands clenching at the disgusting phrase he used to describe her and decided there was no point carrying on the failing facade. "What are you doing here Riddle?"

Tom obviously took pride in his small victory as Hermione admitted the truth. "I am here for you."

"Y-You're what?"

"Am I not being clear enough?" Riddle slid next to Hermione in the booth and she immediately scooted away. "I am here to bring you, Hermione Granger, over to my side."

"Not a hope in hell." She breathed, scrambling to get out of the booth and put the table between them as Tom Riddle just watched her feverish movements with a calculating calm. "Just stay away from me."

Riddle watched Hermione storm from the library with a soft smile dancing across his pale lips. "This might even be fun."

* * *

Lost among the crowd of returning football fans, Hermione had to shove her way free when the stairs to her dorm loomed on the right and nearly fell over Venna who had done the same. Both girls grabbed each other's forearms to steady themselves before huffing impatiently.

"Rude bunch of cretins," Venna straightened her multicoloured shirt. "I swear some of them dropped a link in the evolutionary chain over the holidays."

"Before that I suspect." Hermione and Venna retied to their dorm and the witch found her mind wandering as Venna attempted to fill her in on the events of the match she had missed but, seeing her friend's daze focus, gave up quite quickly.

"Something tells me your story would be better." She said with a slight furrow of her brow.

"My story?" Hermione frowned.

Venna pointed at her wrist which Hermione had been subconsciously rubbing as she thought. "What happened to your wrist for starters; it's all red."

"Oh, I just had a little run in with Adrian in the library."

"That slimy rat! Did he hurt you?" Venna was on her feet, her tiny fists clenched, but relaxed as Hermione cracked a vague smile.

"No, he just annoyed me more than anything. I don't mean to seem zoned out; I'm just still readjusting to everything here."

"Do you know what you need?" Venna asked with girlish grin appearing that made Hermione's stomach clench in dread.

"...no, what?"

"Some retail therapy, come on!" Before she could protest, Hermione was being ushered out of the dorm and into a quickly hailed taxi that drove the two girls the fifteen minutes into the town centre. Venna thanked the oddly lanky driver before linking arms with Hermione and dragging her through the automated doors.

"Is this really necessary?" Hermione droned as her friend held a short and very fitted red dress up to her body. "I can't imagine when I would wear anything like this."

"Well you should start; your absolutely stunning Hermione and there is nothing wrong with showing that off."

She shuddered at the memory of Adrian's thoroughly unwanted advanced. "I can think of one really good reason."

Venna sighed, slinging the dress back on the rack, folding her arms across her modest chest and tapped her foot in the clear sign she had had enough of Hermione's whining. "Are you quite done?" she asked curtly.

"I'm sorry Venna, but this isn't me."

"Well maybe it should be; I know you hated shopping when you were younger because you were a little, well...plain but now you're not and you can see how much fun it is," Venna's eyes turned from frustration to pleading. "Please Hermione; how many museums and library functions have I let you drag me to in the past?"

"Oh that's not fair." Hermione sighed, weakening.

"I've shared your hobby and now it's time you share mine, please?"

Rolling her eyes over the revealing, tight cut clothes around her, Hermione reluctantly nodded. "Okay fine, but can we start somewhere a little less...aggressive?"

Venna squeaked in delight. "Deal, let's go."

Three hours later Venna and Hermione stumbled up the dormitory stairs with arms of shopping bags and boxes after having thoroughly taken advantage of Hermione's surrender, and Venna's father's credit card, they collapsed into their respective armchairs with a symphony of plastic rustling and cardboard clunks.

"I'd say that was a good day's work." Venna laughed.

Hermione snickered and closed her eyes as she dropped her head back. "That's my shopping quota filled for the month."

"The month?" Venna snorted incredulously. "We're going back next weekend I hope you realise."

"To buy what?"

"We'll find out when we get there, won't we?"

Hermione let out a tired groaned before overdramatically rolling off the chair and into a crouching position on the floor. "My feet hurt too much to make it to the room, just load me up like a packhorse and I'll be fine."

Venna laughed behind her before her cold hands gripped under Hermione's shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Come on drama queen; let's go put our stuff away."

As they struggled into their rooms, vanishing their beds under the multicoloured shopping bags Venna suddenly let out an ear-piercing shriek and Hermione spun to see an owl swooping into the room, dropping a letter at her feet before retreating just as abruptly. Both girls stared at the sealed parchment, one with a look of complete shock and the other worry.

"D-Did that owl just drop a letter?" Venna stuttered faintly.

"Yes it did," Hermione picked up the letter and turned it to find the telltale seal of Albus Dumbledore. "It's from one of my lecturers at the other school; he's a bit eccentric." She said honestly.

"He trained a carrier owl to deliver mail?"

"It seems that way."

"That's some school you went to." Venna shook her head as she finally turned her back to Hermione and began sorting through her purchases, Hermione herself however quickly went back into the common room before shakily ripping the letter open and laying it flat upon her knee.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I must confess I read your note several times over before I believed I had read it correctly. If what you are claiming is true then you will not require me to tell you that you are in very grave danger. I would advise you make your excuses and leave the school at once but, as I have grown to know you, I realise you would not simply abandon your studies._

_If by some likelihood I am wrong and you wish to leave, please leave immediately for the Burrow and I will await word before coming to see you, but if you should choose to stay than I can only impress upon you the importance of caution; Tom Riddle would not enter the Muggle world lightly Miss Granger._

_I will be keeping a close eye on my owls until your holidays; please do not hesitate to contact me on any interaction with Tom Riddle, no matter how seemingly trivial._

_Yours with concern,_

_Albus Dumbledore. _

Hermione allowed the letter to fall limp on her thigh and sighed, she knew Dumbledore was right and that she should just pack her things now and leave before Riddle could do any real damage, but she also knew she was not going anywhere. In typical Gryffindor fashion she felt disinclined to flee her own home and familiar ground for the sake of an enemy, especially when that would mean leaving her friends behind with him. Cementing her resolve before it decided to flee; Hermione composed a short letter in reply to Dumbledore informing him of her intentions to stay and the promise she would keep him fully informed. She was unsure just how well he would take the news and even less sure about how she would get away with sending the letter in front of Venna and so, sticking with her theme of Gryffindor ideas, she made plans to sneak out onto the grounds that night and send her owl from the garden where it's hooting and flapping wings would not disturb anyone.

After tucking the note into her pocket, Hermione returned to find Venna sitting on a pile of empty bags. "So how's the lecturer?" she asked.

"He's fine, he was just giving me his opinion on an issue I was having over the summer."

She frowned. "You must be close with him."

"It's a fairly informal school; you get to know the professors quite quickly and they you." Hermione answered vaguely as she began to slip coat-hangers into her new clothes. She was grateful when Venna didn't ask any more questions and instead continued her prattle on accessorising; Hermione wasn't sure which was worse. She was freed from her limbo soon enough though as she claimed exhaustion and took a much needed nap while Venna went swimming.

* * *

Jerked unceremoniously awake by hands shoving her shoulder, Hermione blinked the sleep away to see Venna's excited face as she shoved her from the bed. "Come on, we have to go to dinner." She urged.

"Why would you want to do a stupid thing like that?" Hermione croaked. "Unless of course you enjoy self-abuse?"

"Don't be daft we're not going for the food, I want to try and get a better look at that new boy; Tom." Venna wiggled her dark eyebrows and Hermione's felt her stomach do apprehensive back flips.

"Well I'm not going to stop you; go perve."

With a dramatic sigh, she ripped the covers from Hermione's bed. "Oh yeah and sit at the table like some kind of obsessed loner staring at the new boy? Not a chance, let's go."

"What makes you think I want anything to do with the new boy, he could be a total slime ball for all we know?"

Venna snorted. "Who cares if you're interested in him, I am!"

"So go perve from one of the other tables," Hermione realised she was not getting anymore sleep and swung her pale legs out of bed. "Go sit with Vincent and Will."

"You know I can't sit with them after what happened with me and Will."

"You two are still going on about that?" she groaned and stumbled into the bathroom. "It was three years ago."

"He took it bad," Venna shrugged. "Please come down there with me please, please, please!"

"Fine I'll go," Hermione ran a brush through her lush caramel curls. "But if I die of food poisoning I'm coming back to haunt you."

"How about we make a deal?" Venna suggested as she dragged Hermione downstairs. "You come and be my cover and I'll buy you dinner tomorrow after classes."

Hermione agreed, subconsciously ducking her head as she and Venna entered the dining hall, making the choice to avoid the line of shuffling zombies who were waiting for their grey mush of a supper. They sat at their normal table, tucked neatly in the back corner, and Hermione rested her head on her arms while Venna scanned the room.

"I don't see him, I don't think he's here yet." She whispered.

"Oh well we tried, I guess we should just go back to the room now." Hermione was pulled back into her seat with a dull thump.

"Why are you so opposed to meeting this new guy? He could be really nice for all you know." Venna hissed as she saw Hermione's head drop once more.

"Oh I just have a hunch."

"Keep sitting like that and you will." Another familiar voice broke Hermione's apprehension and she turned to see a tall, abnormally thin boy with large blue eyes and dusty brown hair smiling at her.

Hermione beamed back. "Where have you been Vincent? I haven't seen you since I got back."

"Only got in last night, Dad had another 'incident'," The stringy boy sat beside Hermione, mimicking her unenthusiastic posture. "And this morning I heard Adrian grunting to some of his groupies that you were back."

"He hasn't changed." Hermione murmured.

"No, but according to him you have," Vincent sneered. "He seems quite taken with you."

"Oh shut up; he's such a creep."

Vincent chuckled, turning his attention to Venna's meerkat like stance, peering over the heads of the nearby tables. "What's up with her?"

"Oh there's a new upper school boy and---,"

"Got it."

"I can hear you two," Venna seethed. "Oh, oh there he is!"

Hermione's shoulders locked instantly and she fought the urge to just run away and disappear, instead feigning a sarcastic roll of her eyes to Vincent who sneered. They both watched as Venna's eyes trailed a path to a table and paused; Hermione could only assume Tom Riddle had sat down.

"Do you want to come for a walk with me or stay here and watch the peep show?" Vincent sighed, getting up from the chair and towering over Hermione.

"I'm with you," Hermione patted Venna on the shoulder. "You're on your own."

"Yeah, yeah have fun." Venna waved them off, losing herself in love goggles.

Vincent and Hermione snickered to themselves as they wandered onto the soccer field where the shadowed figure of someone was kicking a ball around the deserted ground. The two friends sat in the stands watching the boy as he threw up a vague wave.

"So Will still plays?" Hermione asked, watching as her friend juggled the soccer ball between his feet.

"Every chance he gets," Vincent nodded. "It has become a bit of an obsession over the past couple of years; I think it has something to do with what happened between him and Venna."

"Really, hasn't that gone on long enough?"

"Well I think so, but apparently he doesn't."

"One fling with the soccer teams token meathead and you're scarred for the rest of your life," Hermione smirked softly. "He knew the risks in dating Venna, surely."

"Yeah well, hell hath no fury like a soccer player scorned."

She chuckled. "Of course...How are things with your Dad?"

"As good as ever," Vincent spoke calmly enough, but Hermione knew the lanky boy well enough to know when he was hurting. "I was supposed to be here three days ago, but he got drunk and attacked a street policeman and I couldn't get a lift here until he posted bail."

"So nothing has really changed?"

"Not a damn thing."

"What hasn't changed?" Hermione smiled at the muscular, somewhat blocky figure of her friend Will who was puffing on the level below.

"You and this soccer obsession," she covered. "You're getting really good though."

"Yeah, but it's all for naught until that tosser Adrian is fit to play again; I can't wait to rub his nose in it."

"Now that's good sportsmanship." Vincent sneered.

"You're just jealous because the only sport you could be involved in is pole vault...As the pole."

"Oh enough both of you," Hermione laughed and yet a little sad at how they reminded her of Harry and Ron's playful squabbling. "Let's play nice."

Vincent's electric blue eyes lit up, but he kept his thin mouth shut as did Will who, after one last triumphant smile, ran back onto the field to continue his practice. Once they were sure he was out of earshot, Hermione and Vincent scooted back another row and lowered their voices.

"You haven't told him?" Hermione whispered.

"Of course not, you know how he is there is no way he would believe me."

"Wuss."

"Have you told Venna?"

"...That's different."

"Sure it is."

"Never mind that," Hermione waved a dismissive hand. "Why are you here, why aren't you at Durmstrang?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Vincent snorted. "Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"I'm guessing for the same reason; Hogwarts was attacked by Lord Voldemort and his followers so Dumbledore and the Ministry didn't feel comfortable reopening this year."

Vincent nodded. "The same happened with Durmstrang after the Ministry found out the centaurs and thestrals had left the grounds."

"...The Hogwarts ghosts just disappeared."

He crinkled his nose in worry. "Neither are good signs. What do you think Lord Voldemort is up to with all of the attacks on the schools?"

"That's not exactly my biggest worry at the moment," Hermione cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see Will at the other end of the grounds. "You know that new boy?"

"The one that has Venna all worked up?"

"Yeah."

"What about him?"

"He's bad news, _really_ bad news. He's here to scout help for Lord Voldemort's side of the war."

Vincent frowned lightly. "Why would Lord Voldemort send a kid to a Muggle school to look for help?"

"Because that boy _is_ Lord Voldemort!" A heavy silence fell between the two teenagers nestled in the darkened spectator stands and Hermione was not willing to interrupt what must have been a rampaging stampede of thoughts crashing through Vincent's mind.

"He is...But wouldn't he...That kid...WHAT?" he finally snapped and Hermione shushed him.

"That boy is Tom Riddle--,"

"I know that, so what?"

"Shut up and I'll tell you," she hissed. "Before he became Lord Voldemort, his name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Vincent's incandescent eyes darted for a few seconds before a look of obvious realisation dawned on his thin features. "I am Lord Voldemort." He muttered, reminding Hermione of why he has always been her strongest competition in class.

"Exactly and he's here now."

"But why?"

"Apparently he is here to turn me into one of his followers," Hermione shivered at the prospect. "So I am guessing he is just seeking out whatever magical help he can for the upcoming war."

Vincent shook his head faintly. "That makes no sense, if he wanted to start recruiting young then why would he close the schools and scatter students all over the country? Surely it would be easier to get them as a group."

He was right and Hermione knew it, but she did not care to contemplate the possibility she was his sole reason for infiltrating the school. "All I know is he said something about bringing me around to his side."

"Just you?" Vincent asked suspiciously.

"What's your point?"

He cocked a sceptical eyebrow. "Oh come now Hermione you're not that stupid, if Voldemort is in a Muggle school, _this_ Muggle school then you and I both know it's not just on a whim."

"I know, I know," Hermione snapped. "I don't know exactly what he wants, but I have some friends looking into it."

"Harry and Ron?"

"Naturally."

"If you two girls have finished gossiping," Will's overly confident voice broke into their conversation and both could only hope he hadn't heard anything. "I need to take a shower and Vinnie needs to iron his undies no doubt."

"You're a riot." Vincent rolled his eyes and gave Hermione a quick look that told her the conversation was far from over. She said goodbye to the boys and wandered slowly back to her own dorm, lost in her thoughts, the excitement of a new school year and the inescapable beauty of the garden at night. Already planning what books and equipment she would need for the next day, Hermione entered her room paying very little attention to the surroundings before being greeted by someone clearing their throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Already planning what books and equipment she would need for the next day, Hermione entered her room paying very little attention to the surroundings before being greeted by someone clearing their throat. _

* * *

Hermione glanced up to see Tom Riddle smirking back. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" she snapped instantly, jumping a foot back.

"I was invited as it happens."

Before Hermione could demand an explanation, Venna appeared from within the bathroom and her eyes popped at the sight of Hermione. "Oh Hermione, I thought you'd be gone a while longer." She said quickly with a faint blush.

"I figure with school tomorrow I should head in early," Hermione said slowly, not taking her eyes off Riddle as he just watched the situation with dark amusement. "If I'm interrupting I can go wait in the common room...,"

"No, no you don't have to do that. It's your room too," Venna's voice was clearly nervous and Hermione hoped it wasn't out of fear. "I'll just say goodbye to Tom in the common room and meet you up here."

Afraid of what Riddle might do to Venna in private, the Gryffindor witch had to think fast. "Oh okay, but before you go and I talk to you about something quickly...Vincent related?"

Having mistaken Hermione and Vincent's closeness for a relationship over the past few holidays, Venna was only too happy to excuse herself from Tom and huddle up with her friend in the bathroom. "So what about Vincent? Tell me, tell me...,"

"Okay Venna I really need you to listen to me...I lied to you before; that guy doesn't just have the same name as the git at my other school, he _is_ the git at my other school. He's a total creep and he's out to play some kind of mind game with me...Please, I am begging you, don't go anywhere near him." The urgent tone in Hermione's whisper did not go unnoticed by Venna whose eyes slowly widened as she spoke.

"B-But he seems so nice...He's a gentleman." She insisted.

"I know he seems that way, but you have to trust me he's not what he seems."

Venna frowned and Hermione got a bad feeling. "You know what Hermione, I know you like Will and I know you blame me for what happened between us but that doesn't mean you can badmouth the guys I have a crush on."

"Venna that isn't what this about, don't you trust me?"

"I thought I did...,"

"Venna I don't care that you cheated on Will two years ago; it was your choice and you made it. Yes I resented you for hurting one of my friends, but it's ancient history now. Please don't take this wrong way...I'm just trying to look out for you."

Although she looked as though she wanted to say something more, Venna's conscience won over and she nodded. "Okay Hermione, I'll make sure he leaves."

With a sigh of relief, Hermione sat on the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands and just waited as Venna disappeared to say her goodbyes to Tom. Although about ten minutes later and still no sign of her friend, Hermione's stomach was in a myriad of knots and she dreaded opening that bathroom door.

"Oh no...," she breathed weakly as she was greeted with the sight of Venna weak in Tom's arms as they kissed. No longer caring about being subtle, Hermione stormed forward and pulled Venna back by the shoulder, facing Tom with flaming eyes. "Stay the _hell_ away from Venna or I swear you'll wish you had never met her."

"Hermione!" Venna shrieked furiously, jumping in front of Riddle. "You can't talk to Tom like that, what business is it of yours anyway?"

"You're my best friend and he is a complete snake; _that's _why it's my business," Through the girl's arguing Riddle just smirked and it infuriated Hermione. "Venna you told me you were going to get rid of him."

"I don't have to follow your orders Hermione!"

"It's not an order Venna! It's a warning; you don't want anything to do with him."

"Why, tell me why?" Venna hissed, throwing her arms out in desperation. "Give me one concrete reason why Tom is so 'evil'...Hm?"

Biting her tongue til it nearly bled, Hermione resisted the urge to tell Venna exactly what made Tom Riddle evil, but kept in mind that it would cause more problems than it could possibly solve. Deciding things could only get worse if she stayed; Hermione threw a clearly unimpressed look to Riddle before slamming the dormitory door shut and stormed into the garden. No longer knowing what to do, she slammed her hands down on the side of the fountain with furious tears prickling behind her eyes. Not for many, many years had Hermione felt so powerless; she couldn't say anything about Tom without endangering the entire magical population, but she couldn't just allow him to slither undetected through the lives of people she cared for either. She wondered if it was wise to leave her friend alone with the future Lord Voldemort, but knew his tactics better than to think he would risk being exposed by murdering a student.

"What the hell do I do?" Hermione flopped beside the fountain and jumped as a letter fell on her hand. Nearly slapping herself in the head, Hermione realised she had forgotten to send off the letter to Dumbledore and quickly whistled to call over her owl. The beautiful cocoa brown creature landed gracefully on her forearm and waited patiently as she attached the letter before taking off with a broad swoop of powerful wings.

"You know if someone else saw that, it might raise a few questions," Vincent's soft voice made Hermione smile as he sidled into the garden. "But luckily for you I'm not the nosey type."

She grinned sarcastically. "Of course not. What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Same thing as you actually; need to send of an owl to the Grandparents and let them know I'm okay. Since Mum died and Dad's my soul guardian they...Well they like frequent updates." Vincent tied a letter the foot a pale, mask faced snow owl and they both watched as it disappeared into the glow of the full moon. "You look...distracted."

"You would too if you saw Tom Riddle snogging your roommate."

"Yep, I think it's safe to say I would." He grinned.

"Oh shush, you know what I mean...Venna and Riddle. What am I going to do Vincent? She thinks I'm just being a cow and I just_ know_ this is part of his game," Hermione groaned, plopping in a heap on the grass. "I feel so powerless."

Vincent snorted in a very unbecoming fashion. "Since when?"

"What?"

He sat beside Hermione, draping his arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer so she could rest her head on his bony shoulder. "You're the single strongest person I know Hermione and with your brains too, Riddle hasn't got a hope."

"That's easy enough to say, but what am I actually going to do?"

"No plan?"

"No plan."

Vincent squeezed her shoulder tighter. "We'll come up with something, Venna will be fine and Riddle will leave here with his tail between his legs. I promise."

Hermione looked up, her eyes wide with hope and doubt. "_We'll _come up with a plan?" she repeated. "You're going to help?"

"You're the closest thing I have to my life at Durmstrang left; there is no way I'd leave you to do this on your own."

"You know what Vincent...I think I love you." The pair sat on the dew covered grass, shaking, but content to be together for that moment. Even if everything else was falling quickly to turmoil at that moment in time they had each other, they had their secret and that was all that mattered; if only for that minute.

"We should get back inside," Vincent finally spoke, interrupting the cricket symphony they had been enjoying. "The caretaker will be coming around soon."

"I suppose...," Hermione sighed. "I'll go in soon I promise; I just need a little longer."

Vincent kissed Hermione gently on the forehead before standing up and smiling down at his secret witch friend. "I'll see you tomorrow and we can start planning to save the world."

"Again." she grinned.

The lanky boy disappeared into the school and Hermione found herself considering Dumbledore's offer to just run away; perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. She smiled at the thought of asking Remus for tutoring and trying to work through the constant ruckus of the Weasley household. Resigning herself to the fact she couldn't abandon her friends or her studies, Hermione sighed and trudged the miserable path back to her dorm. Facing Venna, and possibly Riddle, was not something she was eager for, but Hermione knew if she didn't sleep soon she wouldn't rest at all. By a stroke of mercy the room was silent when Hermione arrived and Venna was already in bed, but the huff of her breathing told Hermione she was not yet asleep. For the sake of avoiding another yelling match, Hermione slipped into her pyjamas and under the sheets without a word.

* * *

The next morning, as Hermione woke and waited for Venna to leave the bathroom, just served to remind her how far away from Hogwarts she really was. The room was frosty and Hermione almost felt as though she was not welcome; not something she had felt in her Gryffindor dorm for many years. With a clear tilt of her nose, Venna breezed past Hermione without a word before loudly rustling through her wardrobe. Opening her mouth to say something, but thinking better of it, Hermione just shook her head and washed her worries away under the warm embrace of the shower. After she had washed, dressed and pulled her long luscious locks into a ponytail, Hermione sidled out of the bathroom to find Venna had already left for breakfast without her usual barrage of knocking.

"...Solitary confinement." She sighed bitterly, throwing her books and files into a bag before walking the lone trail to the food hall. The hallways seemed to echo more than Hermione recalled while her bag knocked against her thigh. Just as she considered whistling to keep herself company, an arm draped over her shoulders with a light slump.

"Good morning my dear Hermione," Vincent drawled in his best high-class accent. "I trust you slept well."

"When I got around to it," Hermione moaned. "Who are you supposed to be by the way?"

"No idea, just thought I'd try to bring some class to the first morning of term...Get it?" Vincent waggled his thin eyebrows, clearly under the impression he was hilarious.

"You're painful sometimes." Hermione smirked.

"Speaking of painful, how did everything go with Venna last night when you got back?" He steered Hermione onto a side bench beside a rather gritty portrait of a woman with no neck and ears to spare.

"It didn't; we haven't spoken a word to each other since I left."

"It's really that bad?" Vincent sucked a worried breath between his teeth. "Do you think Riddle knows what he's doing to you two?"

"I'd bet my last Galleon on it."

He nodded solemnly as a bell rang overhead, causing both teens to flinch. "What have you got first?"

"Ancient history, you?"

"Oh same you stalker," Vincent winked, pulling Hermione up with him. "Let's go, we can dish while Mr. Holmes is stammering."

"You shouldn't make fun of his lisp." Hermione snickered.

"I d-d-don't know what you m-mean." Vincent twitched his eye as he forced his tongue to click over the words and Hermione couldn't suppress a tasteless laugh as they nearly bumped into another student reaching for the Ancient History room handle.

"Oh sorry...," Hermione froze as she saw it was Tom Riddle's hand she had knocked. "That I didn't hit you harder."

His pale handsome face cracked into a grin. "I don't doubt it." He slipped in front of Hermione and Vincent, taking a chair at the front of the class.

"I take it that was...,"

"In the scaly flesh," Hermione hissed as she slumped into a chair at the back of the room, Vincent appearing beside her. "Do you think you can will someone to burst into flames?"

"I'm guessing we'll find out before class is over."

Hermione scribbled furiously at her paper, noting the ritual of the ancient Egyptians when worshiping the sun god Ra, and hissing heatedly under her breath. Vincent looped his fuzzy scrawl all the while grinning at his friend's obvious irritation.

"You're going to etch the desk if you keep that up." He said, nodding towards her firmly imprinted handwriting.

"I could care less at this point," Hermione gritted between her teeth. "I just can't believe that slimy snake is here, let alone in my class."

Vincent snickered under his breath and decided to keep his mouth shut for the remainder of the class and, as the bell finally rang to free them, held out and arm to keep Hermione seated when Riddle sauntered past. He could practically feel the flames flickering from her body as she clearly refused to glance up at his arrogant face. "Down girl."

"Oh shush," Hermione sighed, sliding her books into her bag. "I just can't stand it; knowing he's here, knowing what he's capable of and I can't warn anyone without having to explain myself."

"You won't need to warn anyone; we'll sort something out." Vincent tried to reassure her, but in the back of his mind knew he didn't know where to start.

"We can only hope." Hermione spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on classes and quell the panic that was gradually bubbling up within her. Enough time had passed for her to really understand just how dangerous Tom Riddle's presence could be; his hatred for anyone that is not of Pureblood focussed in a Muggle school. "It'll be Armageddon."

"Hm?" Vincent looked up from his calculus to see the deep frown on Hermione's face. "What wrong?"

"I just can't focus Vincent; I need to do something and soon."

"We will Hermione, I promised you we would, but we need time to plan something seriously. It's lunch next, how about we go to the garden and start plotting?" he suggested with trademark eyebrow waggle.

"It's good you think you're funny."

"Is there something you need to share with the class Miss Granger?" Mr. Tulo asked briskly, making Hermione flinch in her seat.

"She was just explaining the formula to me sir." Vincent piped up quickly and the pair fell back in silence right up until they found a quiet corner in the garden. He leant against a sturdy oak that had been steadily taking over the garden since their first year at St. Ida's, wrapping his arm over Hermione as she leant against him.

"What are we going to do Vincent?"

"Meet you in Scotland?"

"Vince!"

"Okay okay, I don't know yet."

Hermione groaned, dropping further against Vincent's pointy form as William's square shadow loomed over. "If you two keep sitting like that people will talk." He sneered dropping in front of them.

"Don't they always?" Hermione scoffed.

"Why don't you two get together anyway?" Will picked at the grass by his feet.

"Because I'm secretly in love with you," Vincent huffed dramatically. "And I couldn't lead Hermione on like that."

"Oh you're a doll."

"Forget I asked." Will groaned, lying on the soft grass as Hermione and Vincent swapped exasperated glances at the interruption.

"Don't you have a ball to be kicking around?" Vincent prompted. "Something about showing up Adrian and macho testosterone...blah, blah, blah."

"You're a git, but you're right." Will hopped to his feet with a quick wave and disappeared onto the playing field.

"Nice."

"We're meant to be brainstorming and thwarting, remember?"

Hermione tilted her gaze upward to the overcast sky and couldn't help feeling tiny in comparison. "What can we do? I don't even know how he's here or looking like he does."

"Okay well let's find that out; didn't you say you had friends looking into it on the outside?" Vincent lightly twirled Hermione's ponytail in his long, thin fingers.

"They are and, as much as I love them, they're not exactly research specialists."

Vincent chuckled. "Well we are, come on; I smuggled some of my books into the dorm."

"You too?"

Being careful not to be seen going into the boy's dormitory together, Hermione and Vincent crept up the stairs and locked the door behind them as Vincent lifted a faux bottom from his trunk and revealed a considerable hoard of wizardly books and magical history volumes.

"Okay I'm impressed." Hermione laughed as the laid the books out in front of them.

Vincent grinned proudly. "It's better than the stuff they give us to read here."

"So is the back of my cereal box."

Quietly pleased with their secret academic loot, Hermione and Vincent decided to boycott the rest of their classes and consoled themselves with the fact they were reading to save the world. Two hours later, with sore legs and backs, Vincent sat cross-legged beside Hermione as she laid on her stomach, flipping through a dark magic spell book for the fifth time. The pages slipped teasingly as the words began to ring overly familiar and Hermione found herself in a position she never thought possible; left wanting because of books.

"This is hopeless," She huffed, shoving the deep emerald book away. "I swear I could recite that whole volume by now."

"If I have to read another word about the magical properties of Hinkypunk tears I'm going to scream." Vincent dropped his book, rubbing his temples.

"I can't find anything that would turn back the clock that far for Riddle, plenty of age reversal potions and even Polyjuice potion, but according to the books none of them would work on someone as polluted by dark magic as Lord Voldemort."

"Even the dark magic novels are no help...Plan B?"

Hermione looked up hopefully. "What's plan B?"

"I was hoping you knew...,"

Sighing exasperatedly, Hermione rolled onto her back and rubbed her face roughly. "This is ridiculous; how the hell are we going to figure out how to get rid of Voldemort if we can't even work out how he's here?"

"Well we know some of it...," Vincent said gently. "Maybe we need to exploit that."

Hermione glared. "I know you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"I'm just saying if all we know about Riddle is he's interested in you then maybe we should use that information to our advantage."

"Using me as bait?" she snapped. "That's your Plan B?"

"Not bait more of a net...,"

"Oh now I feel safe."

Vincent groaned tiredly. "You're the one who is so desperate to head Riddle off; if you have a better plan then please tell me."

"Fine we'll do this your way," Hermione got to her feet, more irritated by the fact she couldn't trump Vincent's plan than anything else. "I'll do it tonight."

"I want it on the record that this is not _my way_; you think I like the idea of you anywhere near Tom Riddle?" Vincent added softly and there was something very moody in his tone that made Hermione feel guilty for her snap.

"Okay fine, noted. Now I have to go make myself look appealing to a snake."

Vincent smiled forlornly. "Have fun."

* * *

Lost in her million and one terrified thoughts of what could go wrong, or indeed right, if she did happen to run into Tom Riddle later in the night, Hermione nearly tripped over Venna who was sitting on the floor of the room and her face streaked with tears. She dropped to her knees beside her distraught friend and wrapped her arms around her as Venna wept against her shoulder.

"What's wrong?' Hermione whispered.

"T-Tom humiliated me at lunch...I waved him over to sit with me and j-just when everyone was looking he laughed and s-sat with Christine and those skags," Venna hiccupped and sniffed as she spoke. "I don't understand Hermione; he was so s-sweet last night."

"He's just a rat Venna; you're better off without him." Hermione cooed.

"B-But he was so kind!" Venna howled, tears soaking into Hermione's shirt as she shook.

"He's a manipulator, that's all he's good for."

"I sh-should have listened to you."

Hermione shook her head. "That's not important."

"Y-You were just trying to look out for me; you've always t-tried to look out for me and I was so cold...I'm so sorry Hermione."

"Come on Venna, let's get you up off the floor, go have a shower and we'll watch some sad movies. Sound good?" Hermione pulled Venna to her feet gently, brushing a lone tear from her cheek with her thumb.

"I think I just want to go to sleep 'Mione," she sniffed. "When I wake up?"

"Whenever you need," Hermione smiled softly as Venna went to shower and wash the salty residue from her face. Fired up from watching her best friend break down, Hermione quickly changed out of her uniform and slipped into a emerald green top and jeans, ready to go play mind games with the would-be bane of the wizarding world. "Time to go charm the snake." She sneered.

Hermione stretched out under the fountain, somehow knowing that Tom Riddle would poke his evil little head out eventually to rub in his most recent dabbling of cruelty. As she counted the constellations, Hermione's instincts proved true when a shadow blocked her view of the stars.

"I was watching that."

"No room to go to?" Riddle sneered as Hermione sat up and glared at him.

"I could ask you the same."

He smiled and sat beside Hermione who none to subtly shifted across. "I assume it would be somewhat melodramatic in your room at present, what with Venna's misunderstanding."

"_Venna's_ misunderstanding?" Hermione scoffed. "How do you figure?"

"I cannot recall telling her that she and I would be an exclusive engagement."

She curled her nose in disgust. "You're talking about her as though she was a party planner you snubbed; you led Venna on to believe you cared about her."

"Unfortunate, but not my problem."

"It is your problem when you're the cause; she stood up to one of her best friend's for you and you repay her by dropping her the next day?"

"She was fun for the night, but honestly that brash personality could only wear thin over time."

"You're disgusting." Hermione hissed, realising that no matter how hard she tried she would not be able to do this dance with Tom Riddle; her hate was simply too strong. She rose from the fountain and stormed towards the soccer field, but stopped just short when her ankle was abruptly fused to the ground. Glancing down in fear Hermione gasped as a creeper grasped her limb firmly. "Magic...Get it off of me Riddle."

"If these are the measures I must take to keep you still while I talk then so be it." Riddle's voice came from behind Hermione and she tugged uselessly at the thick green ivy.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say." she snapped firmly.

"Hence the ivy," Riddle drawled as though it were so obvious. "Now I have already told you that I am here to obtain your allegiance, have you thought about my offer?"

"What's to think about? I'd rather die."

"It can be arranged," he grinned maliciously and Hermione cursed her poor choice of words as the snake slithered closer until he was well within arms' reach. "You will play an intricate part in the future of our world Hermione and I intend to ensure it plays in my favour."

"The future?" Hermione murmured. "How could you know?"

A cunning smile spread across Riddle's pale rose lips and the look of pure triumph was impossible to miss. "I'm sure you'd love to know."

"How are you even here? Is it a spell or are you really...Tom Riddle?" Hermione's question sounded stupid to her own ears, but it was the closest she could get to figuring out his means of existing out of his time.

"I was born to be Lord Voldemort," he crept closer still. "But in my time, and indeed yours, I find it better for my dealings to be known as Tom."

"What dealings?"

"Your curiosity could be satisfied Hermione and all you would have to do is let me help you, allow me to help you discover your full potential."

Hermione's eyes roved over the emerald orbs that were transfixed on her face, trying to read her every reaction and she wondered. There were avenues of knowledge, unlimited power that Lord Voldemort could offer her, but she knew it would never be her choice to use it. She would never be anything more than a disposable toy soldier; just another Death Eater. "...Do I get a set of steak knives?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**** So we're getting into the 'Do or Die' stages of the story; where I have to decide whether it's worth pursuing or not. A decision which, as always, falls on my beloved readers and reviewers and as such if I receive enough reviews requesting the continuance of this story then continue it shall. Otherwise I may just scrap it and start something else. So please enjoy and if you feel it warrants further attention then please let me know. =) **

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_There were avenues of knowledge, unlimited power that Lord Voldemort could offer her, but she knew it would never be her choice to use it. She would never be anything more than a disposable toy soldier; just another Death Eater. "...Do I get a set of steak knives?"_

* * *

Evidently not finding Hermione amusing, Riddle watched with cold humour as she fell to the ground after a rough jerk from the ivy around her ankle. Hermione braced her fall just in time, but quickly realised she couldn't get back up when another creeper lazily bound her ankles together. As she tugged at the plants, hoping that they would still be vulnerable, it became apparent that Riddle was more than just 'a little' willing to utilise magic.

"Have you quite finished trying to set conditions?" Riddle drawled arrogantly.

"Get these vines off me Riddle," Hermione seethed, already immune to his scathing obnoxiousness. "Or I swear I'll scream so loud the entire school will hear."

"Are you suggesting I should remove your voice?" walking forward to come to a crouch in front of her Hermione recoiled from Riddle.

She swallowed her fear and fixed her glare on the dark wizard's sage eyes. "I've told you I don't want to join you, why are you still here?"

"I see now that we have not been communicating at an even level; I never intended to imply I was only interested in your _voluntary_ allegiance," Tom sneered at Hermione's blossoming fear. "It was simply a formality."

"Even you're not stupid enough to try and bewitch me in the middle of a Muggle school," she snapped proudly. "Don't mistake my recognition of who you are as fear; as long as you want to avoid detection in this school you're as much of a prisoner as I am, so drop the threats and Dark Lord talk...You have no power here."

Tom Riddle listened with calm detachment; he couldn't let the Mudblood know she was right. He knew that he would have to be even more underhanded than usual to gain any leverage over Hermione, after all she was on her own turf. "I may have to conceal myself while in these pathetic Muggle walls, but make no mistake Hermione...," - the vines constricted painfully around her ankles- "I still have power."

"What are you doing out here?" A harsh voice that stung of broken glass and vodka rang out through the gardens and Hermione flinched as the ivy whipped from her ankles and Riddle straightened himself arrogantly.

"I was returning from football practise when I saw Miss Granger had hurt her ankle," he lied smoothly. "I was just about to help her to her dorm."

Mrs. Creasley did not seem overly convinced with Riddle's explanation, but seeing Hermione on the ground and rubbing the throbbing ankle was evidence enough. "Do you need the nurse?" she croaked.

Hermione forced back a biting comment and decided quickly that following Riddle's story was the best move for now. "No Mrs. Creasley, I'm fine; my ankle is just a bit weak."

"Fine, Mr. Riddle you help Miss Granger to her dorm and then to bed with both of you or I'll have you reported."

"Of course," willing to play the part of a model student to the end, Tom nodded politely before offering his hand to Hermione who just eyed it poisonously. "Give me your hand Hermione."

Creasley sighed. "Come now Miss Granger we don't have all night."

With every nerve in her body recoiling in disgust and mistrust, Hermione reached out and tried not to gasp as Riddle clenched his long fingers around her dainty hand. It wasn't just his firm grip that shocked Hermione, but the icy touch that accompanied it; she had never felt someone's skin so cold. Riddle pulled Hermione easily to her feet and, padding his excuse, wrapped and arm around her waist for unnecessary support. Looking pleased with the student's intentions, Mrs. Creasley scowled her orders once more before going back to her night time duty of haunting the halls and, once she was out of sight, Hermione shoved Riddle away.

"Get your hands off me." She hissed, attempting to storm away from him.

Riddle however, was not yet willing to be revealed as a liar and grabbed Hermione's wrist. "I suggest you play this out until we reach your dorm; if Creasley were to see you walking unaided it may raise some uncomfortable questions."

Hermione glared. "For who?"

"You're hilarious," Riddle drawled before firmly clasping his hand around Hermione's waist once more and practically dragging her alongside his proud stride. Hermione squirmed and attempted to put any kind of distance between her and Riddle as she could, but quickly came to the conclusion that magic or not; he was too strong for her.

"Okay we're nearly at the dorm; you can let go of me now."

"I'd hate for you to fall and hurt yourself any further." Riddle grinned coldly and Hermione huffed, shoving him once more, but earned a sharp crushing increase of force around her wrist. Tom Riddle suddenly slammed Hermione into the wall at her back, knocking the wind clear from her lungs and she was left to gasp as he towered over her. He placed a finger under her chin and guided her gaze up to his, his eyes burning flaming emerald holes into her soul.

"Do not test me Hermione; if you wish to do this little dance of resistance then I will accommodate you for a time, but do not assume my leniency will mean your freedom." His voice was not a breath above a whisper, but held a dark note that was impossible to miss.

"You don't decide my freedom."

Squeezing her wrists pointedly, Riddle smirked and leant in close to Hermione's ear. "I do now."

* * *

Sleep was not an option when Hermione finally made it back to the safety of her room; instead she just stared out the window for any sign of returning owl. As the night drew into the morning, and desperation set in, she would have given her left foot for the shadow of a pigeon. Hermione was not so lucky and dove into her bed as Venna's alarm sounded and pretended to sound asleep; apparently convincing her roommate she arrived bouncing on her bed just a few minutes later.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," she chanted chirpily. "Get washed, get dressed, we have drama class first this morning!"

With one last playful shove, Venna disappeared into the deep, dark undiscovered depths of her wardrobe while Hermione did her best impression of the walking dead and threw herself under an icy shower, hoping it may give enough energy to last the day. Thankfully, when she emerged, Venna mistook her languid movements for having slept heavy and didn't ask any probing questions as they made their way down with the rest of the unenthusiastic masses to the food hall. Waving his spindly, ivory arm Vincent ushered the two girls over to a table in the far corner where he waited with a suspicious brown paper bag.

Hermione plopped beside him while Venna sprang her usual step forward. "Heck Hermione, you look like someone just dug you up." Vincent observed with a note of worry.

"Thanks, just what a girl wants to hear." She yawned. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh this?" Vincent raised the bag with a vague smile. "Well that depends...How much do you love me?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You heard me; how much do you love me?"

"A lot...," she said slowly, fighting back another yawn. "Why?"

With the flourish of a magician, Vincent pulled the paper bag back and revealed two foam take-away containers. "I give you...Smuggled pancakes!"

Hermione's eyes widened as the sweet, smoky smell of syrup floated across her sense and she snatched one of the containers. "...Marry me."

Vincent chuckled as he and Hermione practically inhaled their secret breakfasts under the disapproving stare of Venna. "You two are going to regret that."

"Doubt it." Hermione murmured through the fluffy pancakes.

"Those will go straight to your thighs Hermione."

"They can go wherever they want as long as it means I don't have to eat that wallpaper paste they serve here." She smirked, licking the golden syrup from her fork.

"And that's why _you_ didn't get any." Vincent teased, pointing a sticky finger at Venna.

She crinkled her nose. "Oh I am disappointed."

Venna just continued to sigh dramatically, but Hermione and Vincent could not have cared less as they savoured every syrup soaked bite of their contraband food, even going so far to look quite disappointed once the containers were empty. Vincent quickly shoved the incriminating evidence into the brown bag before slinging it into the furthest rubbish bin he could find.

"The perfect crime." He rubbed his hands together maliciously.

"You are the Master." Hermione agreed, warmly resting a hand on her happy stomach.

"You're both idiots." Venna sighed as they all stood to attention when the bell sounded throughout the hall. "Drama!"

Vincent put his arm over Hermione's shoulders as they walked and silently revelled in their tiny victory over the school system. Hermione was more than overjoyed to find Vincent had also taken up Drama that year and would be able to save him from Venna's overconfident attempts at acting. She was her usual bubble of sparkling excitement as she sat beside the two magical teens, bouncing her knees under her hands when the spherical, foul-smelling figure of Mr. Horton appeared.

"It's hard to get too excited about a glass run by a rotten potato." Vincent whispered dryly and Hermione snickered.

"Good morning class," the blob greeted. "And welcome back to St. Ida's. This year for the School Showcase we will be performing William Shakespeare's; The Taming of the Shrew. As it is an intricate piece of text I think we should dive right in today." Venna squeaked excitedly and continued to bounce as Horton split the room into groups, placing Hermione, Vincent and Venna together in a lone trio. "I'm sorry, but we are down one student today."

"That's fine sir." Venna beamed as she took three copies of the play and the three of them found a nice quiet corner.

"You are such a teacher's pet," Vincent smirked, flipping through the Elizabethan script. "I don't understand how you can stand that trash-ball."

"Oh he's a total creep, but I just love drama."

The three of them ran through several pages of dialogue; quickly deciding that Venna was well suited to the proper, happy Bianca while Hermione was more akin to the strong-willed Katherine. Vincent volunteered to be Katherine's would-be suitor; Pertrucio but was quickly overruled. "Why couldn't I be Pertrucio?" he asked sulkily.

"You're too nice," Venna shrugged simply. "I think you'd make a great Lucentio though."

"Oh the drippy would-be prince charming," Vincent whined. "Fine, I'll play the sap if I must."

"That does leave us short one Pertrucio." Hermione reminded them, feeling oddly disappointed that Vincent would not be playing her in-script love interest.

"I think not," Horton announced dramatically and making all three teens jump as he snuck up. "Your last group member has just arrived, an apparent alarm clock malfunction. He can be your Pertrucio." Stepping aside with unnecessary emphasis; the drama teacher revealed the tall, pale, infuriatingly handsome figure of Tom Riddle.

"No way!" Venna cried instantly, her sudden outburst shocking the teacher.

"Excuse me Venna?" he asked quietly.

"I don't want to work with him," she said flatly, looking to Hermione and Vincent for help. "And I don't think I'm the only one."

"She's not." Vincent shook his head.

"I'm not comfortable working with Tom either." Hermione tried not to hiss as Riddle simply looked amused with their weak objections.

Mr. Horton was not impressed either and motioned for Riddle to join the trio. "Well you will just have to work your problems out amongst yourselves; Tom is the only available student." With that he turned his back and left the trio glaring daggers at their 'teammate'.

"Go away." Venna spat heatedly.

Riddle raised an ebony eyebrow lazily. "And disobey the direct orders of a teacher? Why would I do something so foolish?"

"No one wants you here," she reminded him. "So just tell Horton you can't work with us and swap with someone human."

"You are an emotional little thing aren't you?" he condescended. "Why, less than two days ago it was sweet nothings."

"That's enough," Hermione interjected before Venna could tear his throat out. "Venna you know Horton won't listen to him so we're all stuck together and Riddle you can keep your comments to yourself and just read the damn lines."

"Well this is warm welcome." Tom looked to Vincent who had been thus far silent.

"You'll get no support from me." He informed him briskly. "Just read the lines."

The next hour was tense enough that Hermione had trouble breathing and her lines came out weak and faint as she considered setting fire to the drama class and running back home. Thankfully for the insurance company she resisted the urge long enough for the siren to sound and she and Venna practically fought to be first out of the door. Riddle had just sat through the entire class wearing his usual condescending smirk and did not seem at all phased by the girl's abrupt exit. Hermione and Venna fell to the grass on the soccer field with matching looks of exasperation as Vincent joined them.

"Are you all right Venna?" he asked, his eyes twitching towards Hermione.

"I'm fine, I just hate him so much; he's such a patronising, arrogant, self-righteous, slimy...,"

"We get it." He held up a silencing hand.

Venna huffed heatedly. "I just can't even stand to see his smug face."

A second bell sounded and the trio got reluctantly to their feet and Venna parted ways from Vincent and Hermione as she headed to art and the other two trudged over to Classic Literature. For the first time in a long time Hermione found herself thoroughly unenthusiastic about a class; she just wanted to disappear with Vincent and get on with their plan to head Riddle off before he could cause any further damage. The schooling system was not so obliging however and through the remainder of the day she found herself floating from thought to thought without ever absorbing what her teachers were preaching. As she scrawled aimlessly across her notebook the final bell rang and, leaving a dark squiggle where she ripped her pen from the page, Hermione jumped to her feet and pulled Vincent in her wake until they snuck underneath the football stands.

"Something you want Hermione?" Vincent cocked an eyebrow as she straightened his shirt.

"I saw Riddle last night."

His eyes shot up and his nimble hands forgot all about the scrunch in his white shirt. "What happened, are you okay, does he suspect anything?"

"Take a breath," Hermione smiled at Vincent's concern. "I'm all right, but he is not going to be easy to manipulate and he's pretty determined to get what he came here for."

"Did you find out exactly what that is?"

"He just keeps talking about a part I play in his future and how he needs it to work in his favour; but with Riddle it's hard to decipher the truth from the arrogant crap...There was something though?"

"Tell, tell."

"He was really cold."

Vincent cocked his eyebrow once more. "We're in England Hermione."

"Funny, I'm being serious; he was ridiculously cold. It almost felt as though he was...dead." Hermione found herself shivering when she voiced her morbid suspicion, but still shrugging it off as a panicked reaction.

Vincent however was not so easily swayed. "Dead as in six feet under, pushing up daisies, worm food?"

"Charming, but yes."

"Well...Maybe that's something we should look into."

It was Hermione's turn to raise a sceptical eyebrow. "That somehow Voldemort had engineered a mobile corpse of his younger self? Oh why didn't we think of that before?"

"Oh come one Hermione, we're hardly in the position to be sceptical of wild ideas...We're technically myth."

"Think about it though Vincent; how would that even work?" Hermione frowned as she tried to answer her own question when a page from the green, leather bound book she had poured over several days before. "Unless..."

"You know I hate suspense."

"In that book of glamour you smuggled in, there was a section on how it can be utilised with dark magic...It said something about disguising corpses...,"

"That's disgusting," Vincent crinkled his nose, but the look of disgust was quickly replaced with one of realisation. "But I suppose if you could disguise a corpse well enough and master an animation charm...,"

Hermione's insides ran cold as she locked her gaze with Vincent's wide-eyed stare. "...So there's a walking/ talking undead Tom Riddle clone in our school?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Hermione's insides ran cold as she locked her gaze with Vincent's wide-eyed stare. "...So there's a walking/ talking undead Tom Riddle clone in our school?"_

_

* * *

_

"Well I don't think it's as blunt as that, but it is possible." Vincent nodded vacantly.

Hermione slapped her lean friend sharply on the arm. "And _you_ wanted me to throw myself at him!"

"How was I to know at the time?"

"Well before you start plotting your brilliant plans in the future, please check if they have the possibility of turning me into a necrophiliac!"

Vincent rubbed his arm with a tired sigh. "I didn't tell you to jump him; just get closer to him."

"Well it's all a tad academic now, how are we going to deal with an evil corpse?" Hermione slumped against one of the rusted metal stands holding the bleachers up. "Are you sure that's the only answer?"

"Probably not," Vincent admitted. "But it's the first one that fits...,"

"Okay, well I think we should do a little more research before we start gathering the villagers and pitchforks."

"If you insist." Vincent sneered at the image of an unruly mob chasing Riddle from the school.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Research, you have to hit the books for both of us." The disappointment in Hermione's voice was almost touchable.

"Why can't you?"

"Riddle is constantly watching; if I start looking up animation spells and he sees me he'll put two and two together in no time. We can't let him catch onto us just in case we're right."

Vincent jumped to his feet with a new found determination seeing the remorse in his delicate friend's face, holding out a hand to her. "We'll then I had better hit my suitcase library while you

make an appearance at dinner."

Hermione beamed at Vincent and took his soft, slender hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "You're a gem Vincent." she muttered, pulling him close. As she smiled into his thin chest, Hermione would never see the soft satisfaction on Vincent's features as he savoured the warmth of her against him and the light fruity scent of her hair.

As they parted ways in the hallway Hermione was nearly thrown off her feet by a rampaging Venna who flung her arms around her best friends neck with an excited squeak.

"Oh my gosh Hermione!"

"Ow!" Hermione pushed the squealing girl away. "Hell Venna, only dogs could hear that."

"I'm sorry, but guess what!"

"What?"

"I made the interschool swimming team again this year!"

"Congratulations!" Hermione hugged her best friend tightly, trying to focus on her incessant chatter as they made their way into the food hall together. In truth Hermione could not have cared less about the school sports teams, but swimming meant the world to Venna so she chastised her mind harshly as it tried desperately to drift away.

"And then coach said I was the best-,"

_He can't be a zombie; even in our world zombies are considered myth. Why would he reanimate his corpse anyway? Why does he need me on his side? Is it worth playing along to find out? How far would I have to take it?"_

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Venna's furious sun-kissed face was glaring at Hermione as she snapped back into reality. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Hm? Oh, of course I am," she tried to sound incensed. "I was just contemplating what I'll do with myself for the week you're gone." she covered quickly.

Venna smile sweetly, apparently buying the quick lie. "Oh you'll manage, Vincent will be here after all."

"Oh very funny."

"Who was joking?" she winked a sage eye before their conversation was thankfully cut short by someone clearing their throat. The two girls turned to see the grotesque drama teacher, Mr. Horton, staring down at them with his beady eyes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I need to speak with you girls." he warbled, his flabby chin wobbling with every syllable.

"Something wrong, sir?" Venna asked with forced manners.

"No nothing, it's just that the Headmistress has taken more of a shine to my idea of producing a purely upper school show than I originally expected; she would like rehearsals to begin tomorrow."

"I see, but why does this involve us?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow slightly.

"Well you two have always been my finest drama students and I would like for your little group to take up the lead roles as of tomorrow."

Hermione's heart plummeted and by the look on her face, Venna's wasn't far behind. "B-B-But sir we haven't had nearly enough time to learn the characters and there are so many other students in our class who would love the chance and-,"

"They may love the opportunity, but you two deserve it," Horton cut Venna's stuttering rant off with a wave of his pudgy hand. "I will be expecting both of you along with Vincent and Tom bright and early tomorrow morning in the drama room." He left before the girls could muster another a feeble protest, leaving them staring forlornly at one another.

"Well just fantastic." Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

"He can't _make_ us do the play, we just have to tell him no tomorrow and mean it." Venna reasoned somewhat weakly.

"Because that worked so well last time" The witch rolled her eyes. "This sucks."

"Want to know something worse?"

"Not really."

"One of us is going to have to tell Riddle."

Hermione's head shot up from within her hands. "Oh not me, not in a million years."

"I'm not going near that arrogant git ever again!" Venna protested, her eyes betraying the anger in her voice for true pain and a hint of fear. Hermione knew Venna still hadn't completely healed, even though their fling was fleeting she knew her emotional friend grew attached far too fast. So, with a defeated sigh, Hermione agreed to tell Tom about the drama meeting, dragging her feet as she made her way towards the boys dorms.

There were very few occasions where a girl was allowed within 10 feet of the boys dorm, but, clutching a scrawling note she had picked up from Horton, Hermione was to be exception. She groaned internally every step higher she climbed, passing several banners, dyed in school colours and embroidered with their pathetic creeds. When she finally reached the fourth floor, she practically had to force her fist against the door to knock and held her legs in place as they tried to pull her back down the stairs. Just as Hermione's resolve started to fade the door creaked open to reveal the smirking Heir of Slytherin himself.

"Well, well so eager to see me?" he mused arrogantly, his coal eyes surveying the pure distaste on Hermione's soft features.

"This is from Horton," she said bluntly, shoving the note towards Riddle. "He says no arguments."

With a slightly quirked eyebrow, Riddle uncurled the note and read it with a vague sneer growing across his regrettably handsome face. A soft chuckle passed his lips as he folded the paper neatly and pressed it into his pocket. "Well that does sound like fun." he grinned.

"You're certainly entitled to your opinion," Hermione turned on her heel with her head held high. "Don't feel you have to turn up."

She nearly lost her footing and fell face first down the staircase as a strong hand gripped her upper arm, yanking her awkwardly up the last stair and through the dorm doorway. She stumbled slightly, gripping a conveniently placed armchair to keep her balance while glaring at Riddle's obnoxious face for all she was worth.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "I could have broken my neck."

"You still might," The young Lord Voldemort said menacingly, causing Hermione's voice to shrink deep into the back of her throat. "Now, what have you told your little friend Vincent about me?"

Hermione's blood froze mid-pulse and her eyes shot up guiltily. "Wh-What?" she stuttered.

"Must I talk slower?" Tom advanced towards Hermione with feline grace and she quickly shuffled behind the armchair to place it between them.

"Nothing more than you're a git," she hissed. "Why?"

"I couldn't help, but notice his frosty eyes in that pointless drama class, the ones that have been following me since our first encounter," Riddle seemed unfazed by Hermione's retreat as he continued to stare at her with unsettling intensity. "Now, what have you told him?"

"What _could_ I tell him?" Hermione was proud when her voice came out sounding genuinely frustrated. "He's a Muggle!"

Riddle chuckled deep within his chest, shaking his head in the manner of a disapproving teacher. "You truly have been given too much credit for your intelligence Hermione."

"Don't say my name."

"I can feel magic; it ripples through me like beacon. I know Vincent is a wizard as do you."

"News to me." Hermione shrugged weakly, gasping sharply as the chair that once provided her shelter was blasted form between them. It slammed into the brick wall to her right and she turned her attention back to Riddle in time to see him storming closer, snatching her wrist in vice like fingers.

"Do not lie to me Hermione-,"

"Don't say that!" Hermione cried heatedly, trying to jerk her arm back, but only straining her shoulder. "I never want to hear you say my name."

Hissing under his breath, Riddle watched as the young Gryffindor writhed in the pain he was wishing upon her, panting as she doubled over and clutched at her ribs. "And do not interrupt me."

The silent spell finally lifted and Hermione gasped faintly, glaring upwards into Riddle's cold eyes. "Go to hell."

Tom bent down, gripping Hermione's chin between his fingers and forcing her eyes to his once more. "I'll take you with me _dearest_."

She jerked her face from his grip and he allowed her to back away, relinquishing his finger's aching hold on her arm. Not bothering to dig herself a deeper hole, Hermione just turned her back on the smirking wizard and stormed form the dormitory, nearly slamming into Vincent as she came huffing down the stairs.

"Whoa! Easy!" he cried, catching the petite girl by the shoulders as she wobbled. "What's wrong?...Why were you in the dorms?"

"Beating my head against a brick wall," Hermione seethed. "I'm guessing Venna found you?"

"Yeah, she told me about the new drama in drama; were you just telling Riddle about it?"

"Among other things." Hermione absent-mindedly rubbed her aching wrist, pulling Vincent's attention to the dark red skin and flourishing bruise. She jumped as his cool fingers flickered over hers, taking their place and caressing the sore skin.

"Did he do this?" he asked in an uncharacteristically dark tone.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Hermione muttered meekly.

Vincent did not respond, he simply stared at her wrist, his lean fingers providing surprising relief as Hermione noticed he was muttering under his breath. Slowly the bruises faded and her muscles were relaxing, holding no memory of the cruel grip they had just broken free of. She slowly pulled her hand away from her friend and looked over his handiwork with a small smile. "Not bad."

"I do try," Vincent said, still sounding unusually cold. "Does it feel better?"

"Completely," Hermione widened her smile. "Thank you."

"I figure you'll need it tomorrow, after all Katherine does get to slap Pertrucio."

* * *

"Damn it all to bloody, pathetic, crap-ridden hell!"

"Good morning to you too," Hermione slurred as she was woken by her roommate's string of obscenities.

"I can't do this Hermione." Venna sulked, plopping herself on Hermione's bed beside her. "What do you think the chances of me contracting an incurable and contagious disease in the next twenty minutes are?"

"Not good if I'm honest," the witch groaned, pushing her face out of her pillow only to flop limply back on her bed. "But with a little paper mache and some paint we could work something up."

"Don't tempt me." Venna snorted bitterly and dragged her feet sadly as she went to get changed and Hermione staggered sleepily into the bathroom, jumping under a cold shower as sleep clung persistently to her senses. Her mind fuzzed over all the unhappy outcomes that could brew over months of rehearsals with Tom Riddle. Not to mention it would leave Vincent with practically no time to study up on the possibility their enemy was an animated corpse. She dropped her head against the blinding white tiles of the shower wall, allowing her long, wet locks to slide over her shoulders.

"Come on girl, there is no way I'm suffering this alone!" Venna's shrill voice called impatiently and Hermione twisted the taps with a childish poke of her tongue in the direction of the door. She threw on her school uniform, not bothering to tuck her blouse into her skirt as her jacket was pulled lazily about her shoulders.

She emerged to see her friend tapping her foot rapidly. "You took your sweet time."

"Wouldn't you?"

With a cheeky admission, Venna and Hermione joined their displeasure into one giant cloud of irritation that they were sure was almost visibly hovering over their heads as they stalked down the hallways, carelessly forcing younger years to dive and scoot out of their path. When they eventually and unenthusiastically arrived at the drama room they were relived and disappointed to find the boys had beaten them there. Vincent almost ran to their side as the door shut behind them and Horton appeared from within the back room, beaming at his supposed favourite students.

"Excellent girls, you made it."

"Sir, is there no chance we can convince you to at least let the other students audition?" Hermione pleaded brazenly.

The repugnant teacher frowned his thick eyebrows and guffawed deeply. "Why Hermione if I recall you were one of my most promising students before you went travelling, I do hope your time away hasn't lessoned your love of the arts."

"Not at all sir, but I just don't think this is fair to the rest of our year." Hermione covered quickly, trying to ignore the overly satisfied grin spreading across a certain serpents face.

"Nonsense. You and Venna have never let me down, nor has Mr. Dyson and I have faith Mr. Riddle will pick up the form soon enough."

_No doubt he can act when he has to_. Hermione thought bitterly. "Okay, sir." she conceded, knowing the teacher well enough to guess he would not back down any time soon.

"Good, now that is settled I am absolutely thrilled to inform you that, after speaking with the Headmistress, we will be performing The Phantom of the Opera."

"What?" Venna cried.

"But sir!" Hermione echoed. "You told us it would be Taming of the Shrew."

"And the Headmistress and I decided otherwise," Horton brushed their protests off quickly. "Venna I would like you to play the part of the young ballerina; Meg. Vincent you shall play the Vicomte; Raoul and Hermione I think you would play the part of Christine beautifully...Which leaves our young Mr. Riddle as the enigmatic Phantom."

"Sir. Please," Hermione said firmly, trying to stop her pulse from flying out of her throat. "I really wouldn't feel comfortable in the lead part, I would be much happier as a support."

Horton huffed comically. "Drama is about finding and pushing your limits dear girl! I will not hear another word about it. Now take these starter lines and get to work while I grade these last few performance assessments." With a nod of his bulbous head, the drama teacher waddled off, leaving the room with an icy disposition.

"He must be joking," Venna finally spoke, her voice full of frustration. "We can't do this."

"Agreed." Vincent nodded.

"Maybe we can talk him out of it." Hermione sighed, knowing it was a fruitless notion.

"So negative," Riddle clicked his tongue condescendingly. "I think it has some _interesting _possibilities." The slimy look he threw Hermione did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room.

"In your dreams Riddle." Venna snapped as Vincent shuffled behind Hermione resting his arm over her shoulder.

"Enough of this," the cinnamon haired witch sighed. "Horton will hit the roof if he comes in and we've done nothing; I say we stick this out until we can think of a good enough reason to cancel the show all together."

Reluctantly Vincent and Venna agreed, moodily flipping through their lines, mumbling them with the utmost contempt as the teacher came wobbling back. "And how are we doing?" he boomed cheerfully.

"Fine." The three chorused together.

"Oh dear that doesn't sound good. Tell you what, how about you pair off into Room A and B and get some real face time, hm?"

_Oh please Merlin, no. _Hermione winced.

"Raoul and Meg if you would please go rehearse the divulging scene about the Phantom's history while Christine and Erik will rehearse "The Point of no Return" scene." With a jovial clap of his hands, the students were sent stuttering from the main room into two smaller offsets, warned not to come out before at least and hour had passed or they had memorised their scene; whichever came first.

Hermione watched with a look of complete sorrow as the door closed behind her and she was left in a room, far too small, with a cocky Tom Riddle.

"This has to be a joke...Or a nightmare." she moaned, resting her forehead against the door.

"Oh come now Hermione, you can't honestly tell me you find no intrigue in this little predicament." Riddle tutted.

"Oh yes I can."

Her breath caught in her throat as a hand came to rest firmly beside her head and warm breath tickled the back of her neck, rolling down her spine. "Perhaps you should use your imagination; it could be fun to have you as my frightened yet devoted protege."

"Back off Riddle." Hermione breathed fearfully, not daring to move.

"Somewhat ironic, don't you think?" he ignored her breathy order, running his free hand up her arm. "There is some truth in literature."

Hermione jerked her arm away quickly, spinning to face her serpentine nemesis with a deadly stare. "I told you to get away."

"Let me be your Phantom Hermione," Riddle hissed softly, slowly leaning closer. "I could guide you, watch over you...The things I could teach you."

"I'm not interested in anything you could teach me," she insisted, unsure of just how true that was. "Now I suggest we get on with these stupid lines if we plan on ever getting out of this class."

Lingering for just another moment, Riddle pushed off the door and sauntered to a desk on the other side of the room, perching himself atop it. "As the lady wishes."

"Believe me if I had my wish, this would not be an issue. Just read your lines."

* * *

Hermione could have leapt on Horton as his head poked into the study room and ordered them back into the one group. She raced beside her friends as soon as they appeared from their own room and Horton bounced back an forth of his weighted heels. "Now then, now then let's see what you have accomplished; Venna, Vincent if you would."

With a slight nod, Vincent led Venna into the centre of the room and Hermione watched with pride as her two best friends moulded seamlessly into their respective roles. Raoul the dedicated, childhood love and Meg the naive best friend. She watched as Venna rapidly and emotionally divulged the tale of a angry, disfigured soul that haunted her days, her dreams and her very being as Vincent fell into the place of concerned young man, ravished with worry all too easily. As Venna fell into Vincent's arms, begging him to save her friend someway, somehow Horton clapped loudly and shouted his approval as the students offered awkward bows.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful, I believed every moment. However I would like to see more passion from you Mr. Dyson; this is the woman of your dreams she is telling you is in danger."

"Yes sir." Vincent nodded simply. "I'll try."

"That's my boy, now Hermione, Tom your scene if you please."

Begrudgingly Hermione followed Riddle to the middle of the room and they stood opposite each other, eyes locked with pure contempt and challenge. As they fell into their lines, Hermione edging further and further away at every opportunity, her natural instinct to flee from the would-be Lord Voldemort. She could not have cared less about the learned words spilling from her lips and as a result Horton was quick to interrupt.

"No, no, no this simply will not do; I do not believe you at all." he huffed, turning to Hermione and blocking Tom from her view. "Hermione my dear this is the man you trusted; who you chose to be your Father figure and you have just discovered he is a killer and is willing to steal you away from everything you know just to make you his; I want to hear that betrayal; that frustration!"

"Sorry sir."

The spherical tutor rounded on Tom next. "And you Mr. Riddle; this is the woman you have watched her entire life; you have seen her grow and you have tried to groom her into your protege. More than that though; she is your obsession, your life, you want to claim her as your own. Let me see that determination; that raw passion."

"I think I can manage that." Riddle smirked faintly.

"Good boy, now let's try this again."

Hermione and Riddle faced each other once more, both determined to get this over with and do it right for fear they would never be allowed out of the classroom. The young girl rested on her knees, glancing sadly down at the floor, allowing the natural fear she felt in the presence of Riddle to show through; it was a surprising relief.

The Slytherin Prince himself came creeping slowly closer from the side of the room, his eyes fused on the delicate figure of Hermione on her knees before him. His voice came from deep within his chest, it was dark, sultry, captivating and sent apprehensive shivers through Hermione's body as he stalked ever nearer. "You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent. I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge." He stopped just a few feet behind the now incredibly tense girl, lowering his voice still. "In your mind you've already succumbed to me. Dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. You've decided..."

The words rang all too true from his lips; there was a wishful sincerity behind them that only Hermione and Vincent caught.

"Past the point of no return. No backward glances, our games of make-believe are at an end! Past all thought of if or when. No use resisting... abandon thought and let the dream descend."

Hermione slowly rose to her feet, her eyes now glued on Riddle's every move; every predatory flex of his strong shoulders and gentle step closer. "What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desires unlock its door?" She gasped audibly as Riddle was suddenly at her back, his long, strong hand wrapped lightly, but steadily round her throat. "What sweet seductions lie before us? Past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no... return." His voice brushed against her ear as she turned from him, accidentally offering up her neck.

"I came here, hardly knowing the reason why," she whispered softly; her terror evident in every syllable. "In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenceless and silent."

She pulled free of his grasp, not getting far as Riddle gripped her arm firmly using the rouse of the play to foil Hermione's weak attempt at distance. "Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided, past the point of no return; no going back now...," Hermione's heart hitched at the hungry, triumphant look in Tom's eyes. "Our passion-play has now at last begun." She jerked free sharply, backing away swiftly as his eyes studied her.

"You will succumb to me," he prowled closer. "Completely succumb and surrender your soul."

"What was once a dream...A nightmare now haunts my reality." Hermione felt her legs bump into Horton's desk, throwing her eyes to Tom who had never looked more like a snake ready to strike.

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold, Let the flames consume you," his arms trapped Hermione against the desk as she gazed defiantly up at him, fear softly edging into her cinnamon gaze. He leant close to her ear, his lips ever so lightly brushing her skin as his arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling firmly against him. "Succumb to me."

The pause that followed the end of the scene seemed to last an age for Hermione as she fought the urge to kick Riddle in the shins and run as far as her body would endure. Her breath was coming slow and shallow as the Dark Lord showed no signs of releasing her. Salvation would come in the form of sharp applause from a plump drama teacher; Horton was on his feet, slamming his hands unceremoniously together with an all too pleased look plastered across his pink face.

"Bravo! Bravo! Simply astonishing!" he roared. "You are both prodigies, you will make fine leads, just fine."

Hermione's chest sunk with relief as Riddle finally removed his icy touch and stepped away. "It was thanks to your guidance sir." he said smoothly, making Hermione want to gag.

"You're too kind my boy, too kind." Horton's beady eyes caught sight of his watch and he snapped his hands with a finality Hermione was just too thankful for. "I'm sorry to say that's all we have time for this morning, but I expect you all to rehearse today and be back here this evening."

"But sir, it's Saturday." Venna pointed out shrilly.

"And hence the perfect time for the four of you to get some real practice in; no distractions."

"It's not that simple sir," Hermione insisted. "We do have homework and assignments from other classes; we can't just ignore them."

"The Headmistress has spoken to your teachers and informed them of your roles in the show; we also understand that this is your final year and so some stress relief is needed."

"Sir-,"

"No need to thank me Hermione, now on your way I have my tutorial classes starting soon." With a sweep of his chunky arm the four students were ushered out of the drama room. There was no feeling of warmth in that hallway as Venna stared at her shoes and Vincent was adamantly trying to burn a flaming hole in Tom Riddle's skull; having almost dug his nails into his chair as he watched the Slytherin prince manhandling Hermione.

"Well it's been a riot," Hermione finally broke the silence. "But I think this is where we part ways." she found Vincent's arm draped over her shoulder and she nestled against his side, smiling up at her blue-eyed best friend.

"Good idea." He nodded, hugging Hermione tightly, smiling back and therefore completely missing the furious daggers brewing behind Riddle's sage coloured eyes. The trio did not wait for his response as they turned their backs and headed for the soccer field, more specifically under the bleachers. Venna sat for only a moment or two before rushing off to swim training, leaving Hermione and Vincent laying beneath the striped shade of the stands. Her head rested on his thin, but strong chest as a long arm was draped over her stomach.

Hermione sighed into her friend. "I've missed these moments."

"What moments are they?" Vincent murmured, sounding half-asleep.

"The ones when, even though things might not be going perfectly, when we have a million things to be worrying over they just fade away for a time so we can be together...Just like this." Vincent's arm tightened around Hermione as she spoke and she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"You do have a way with words 'Mione...Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What the hell happened back in drama class?"

Hermione had been waiting for him to ask and felt herself shuffle uncomfortably. "I really wish I knew."

"He wasn't just acting, was he?"

"Didn't feel that way, no."

Vincent sighed sadly. "I'm worried about you Hermione; Riddle is getting bolder and bolder. He'll make a move soon, I can feel it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Vincent sighed sadly. "I'm worried about you Hermione; Riddle is getting bolder and bolder. He'll make a move soon, I can feel it." _

_

* * *

_

Hermione's fingers clenched instinctively and she shook her head lightly. "You shouldn't say things like that Vincent."

"I just don't want you to be kidding yourself; Riddle won't be. You need to be alert for this 'Mione...You can't afford not to be."

"You don't need to baby me about it," Hermione murmured somewhat sulkily. "It's not you he's trying to corrupt after all." Vincent fell silent, his grip loosening somewhat and Hermione mentally slapped herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I get it, don't worry," he assured her. "You've got a lot on your mind."

"It's no excuse," she sighed.

Vincent leant over, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Hermione's chestnut curls before slowly sitting up, brushing the grass from his shirt and pants. "I suppose I should use what little time I have to get into that research."

"You're going?"

"Not by choice," Vincent offered a weak smile. "I'll see you in the drama room tonight?"

Hermione nodded slowly, forcing a sad smile of her own. "I'll see you there." She fell back into the grass once Vincent had disappeared from her sight. The young witch frowned as she found herself fighting off warm tears prickling at the back of eyes; there was an odd sense of loss and loneliness as she laid there by herself. She scolded herself for being so emotional about something so trivial at a time like that; Tom Riddle was out for blood and she was upset about her childhood friend going to study. Unfortunately watching Vincent leave just reminded Hermione of how much she missed Harry and Ron and just Hogwarts life itself, but it was more than that. She missed being behind the scenes; the anonymous researcher rather than the focus of Lord Voldemort''s intentions. Hermione found herself with a whole new respect for the stress Harry was constantly under. However under the sun with a cool breeze whispering across her body, Hermione found it hard to stress about anything for long. So much so that sleep crept closer only to claim her as she drifted in feverish dreams beneath the stands.

* * *

"Venna turn the television off," Hermione murmured into her forearm as the incessant hooting of owls began to irk her. "I asked you to-," she sat up only to see the sun kissing the horizon softly as the evening settled around her. "Oh dear...,"

She scooped up her bag and rushed through the mostly deserted hallways until she came to a skidding halt in the drama room where four pairs of eyes fell on her expectantly.

"Mione, thank Mer-God." Vincent sighed, quickly pulling her into an embrace.

"You had us worried!" Venna cried as she shoved her way into the hug.

"Are you alright Miss Granger?" Horton asked briskly, clearly not as concerned as he was inconvenienced.

"Yes, I'm fine I'm sorry I fell asleep in the grounds." she blushed as she revealed the clumsy truth.

"Well while you were napping _we_ went ahead with this evening's rehearsals," the teacher scolded as he pushed a clipped stack of papers into a leather shoulder bag. "You missed them."

Hermione hung her head slightly. "I'm really sorry sir, it was a complete accident; I haven't been sleeping well."

"Well fortunately for you Mr. Riddle has been kind enough to offer to stay back with you tonight and run through the lines you missed; it would be wise for you to accept."

Venna and Vincent formed twin pillars at Hermione's side as they stiffened instantly and Hermione couldn't help but shake her head. "That really won't be necessary sir, I'm sure Venna and I can run lines before bed tonight; I wouldn't feel right taking up Rid-Tom's time like that."

"It's no imposition Hermione," Tom chimed in sweetly. "I could use the extra time to work anyway."

"See, no problems." Horton concluded as he turned to the two glaring actors remaining. "As for you two Venna and Vincent I would like both of you to go to your rooms and practise the expressions we spoke of in the mirror."

"But sir, surely since we are all free, a group rehearsal would be a good idea." Vincent offered.

"Your lines are coming along nicely Mr. Dyson it is your expressions that need work now come along, let's leave Tom and Hermione to it." Throwing an apologetic look back to Hermione, the worried friends were shoved out of the class and it was hard for the young witch not to run after them. The door clicked shut in an eerily final note as the room fell into deft silence, Hermione refusing to even glance in Riddle's direction.

"Alone at last." he mused darkly.

"Just until I'm sure Horton is far enough away so I can slip out," Hermione hissed over her shoulder, still looking away. "And not a second longer."

"Surely the idea of this play does not repulse you so thoroughly."

"Not the _play_."

Riddle chuckled softly. "So cold Hermione."

"Oh you're one to talk," she snapped. "And I've told you not to use my name."

"Then what would you like me to call you...dearest? Darling? Pet?"

Hermione shuddered outwardly. "Don't you dare."

"Well there is just no pleasing you."

The obnoxious offhanded tone and seemingly mediocre comment suddenly pushed Hermione's patience a tad too far and she rounded on the infuriatingly handsome boy before her. "You know what would please me; for you to disappear, not just from this time, but for good. For your ugly, pathetic snake face to stay out of my nightmares! For my life to go back to how it was before you ever darkened my existence with your weak, cowardly need for power! All because Daddy didn't love you and Mummy wouldn't protect you...You're just pathetic!"

Have you ever heard the silence in a room as it screeched through your mind, chilling you to the very bone, knowing that the quiet offers more horrors than strong words ever could. The very weight of it scraping through your eardrums, conjuring every fear you ever held to the surface? That was what Hermione heard; the deafening silence as the passion from her words rang around them both, but mostly she felt the cold, choking rush of Tom Riddle's power. As she dared to look at his eyes, she regretted it; they were swirling ebony pools of malice, tinged with blood red flecks.

_I'm going to die._ Hermione gulped. _At least I went out with a fight._

No sooner had the thought lumbered across her mind than Hermione fell to her knees screaming as white hot knives punctured her skin, blazing through her nerves as her entire body cried desperately for mercy. Muscles felt as though they were being torn apart by ravenous beasts and her bones throbbed in a way she never thought possible. Hermione knew the feeling only too well; the Cruciatus curse without mistake. Her feebly protesting mind vaguely registered it's shock at Riddle's ability to cast a non-verbal Unforgivable when finally the invisible blades retracted and the pain subsided as suddenly as it had began. Hermione was left panting on her hands and knees, wiping the tears furiously from her eyes.

"J-Jokes on you," she gasped. "Someone would have heard that."

The soft tap of Riddle's steps crept closer until he came a crouch in front of her, his wand hanging limply between ashen fingers. "Unless someone were astute enough to cast silencing wards beforehand."

Hermione's heart sank, but she would not let him see. "With all the magic you're using someone will register it; you can't just cast an Unforgivable in a Muggle school and get away with it."

"Ah but you're forgetting one very important detail," Riddle gripped Hermione's chin and forced her gaze to his. "Technically, I do not exist."

"If only." she seethed.

A sneer spread across Tom's face as he roughly let her go, watching with sick amusement as she got somewhat shakily to her feet. Hermione gripped the desk behind her for dear life and sat atop it, her ribs throbbing against her skin and her nerves still tingling unpleasantly.

"Don't think I have forgotten about my purpose here Hermione," Riddle's voice came out low and dark. "I will humour the pathetic Muggle's in this place as long as it is necessary, but my patience is not endless."

"So I see." Hermione rubbed her twinging ribs gently. "Why don't you just leave then? I'm not going to change my mind."

"When I decide to leave this place, you'll come with me."

"Not in a thousand years."

Riddle smirked and it was a cruel, terrifying gesture. "It was not a question."

Hermione tried to ignore the ripple of fear flooding her stomach and tossed her head arrogantly, trusting her feet to hold her as she slid from the desk. "This is pointless; I've heard all of these threats before. If there is nothing new I'm going."

"Without rehearsing?" Tom laughed. "How irresponsible."

"Horton has probably gone to bed by now; I'll read the lines by myself tonight and he'll never know the difference." Riddle stepped in front of Hermione, blocking her exit and she released a tired sigh. "I'm not doing this ridiculous dance with you every time we meet."

"In your mind you've already succumbed to me," Hermione frowned before she realised Riddle had started his lines unprompted. "Dropped all defences, completely succumb to me."

"I'm not doing this." she said flatly, shifting past the suddenly imposingly tall boy. He was abruptly behind her, his arm clamped firmly about her waist, drawing her back against his chest while his other hand flickered brushing her chocolate locks from her neck.

"Abandon hope and let the fire commence." he whispered seductively.

Hermione struggled in the wizard's grip, his hand slithering up to her throat. "Riddle, let me go."

"You're past the point of no return." His words rang through Hermione's senses, he was no longer reciting lines and she could feel it. The games had begun from the first night at the fountain; the cat and mouse chase would not last forever and Hermione knew if Riddle decided to steal her away she could not hope to stop him; she was free as long as he allowed it and no longer.

"...Let me go." she finally whispered, sorrow tearing at her voice.

His long, slender hand caressed Hermione's cheek almost affectionately as he nuzzled into her silky locks, inhaling the scent deeply. "I won't take your orders Hermione," his hand suddenly coiled itself around her wrist, twisting her arm painfully up behind her back. "But you will learn to take mine."

She tried to struggle, but the sharp angle of her arm just caused more pain she was forced to remain still for fear of popping her shoulder. "Why me?" Hermione snapped. "Why come here for me when there are a hundred other witches who would cut off their wand arms to help you?"

"You're special Hermione; come with me and you'll discover why."

"Any question that can only be answered by you isn't worth asking." Hermione spat replacing her venomous words for a sharp scream as her arm was pushed to the point of breaking.

"You'll also learn to keep your snide comments to yourself." Riddle growled.

"Too much competition?" Hermione was thrown roughly to the floor for her words, her palms scraping along the hard surface. As she tried to get up a hand entangled itself in her hair, pulling her head back sharply. She was forced to look into the malicious eyes of Riddle, but she quickly realised there was very little of him left; Lord Voldemort had begun to surface.

"I have been lenient with you Hermione; even merciful, but time is running out," he brought the frightened girl's face closer to his own. "And whether I must drag you screaming from this place or have you come quietly is of no consequence to me, but rest assured...You will come with me."

"Get. Your. Filthy hands off her." Like a golden harp, Vincent's voice floated through the room and Hermione craned her head to see her best friend with a look she had never seen on him before; rage. His wand was extended and aimed directly between Riddle's eyes.

"Vincent...," she muttered weakly.

Riddle's grip tightened in her hair, yanking her up beside him. "We're actually trying to rehearse in here if you don't mind."

"I won't tell you again Riddle, let Hermione go."

"Your friend makes a heart-warming plea," Riddle scoffed, pulling Hermione's gaze to his. "Should I respond?"

She recognised the gleaming look in those deep emerald eyes and her pulse suddenly fled into her toes."Vincent run!"

Turning to Vincent with a wand Hermione hadn't seen him produce, Riddle pointed it at the narrow boy's chest. "Crucio!"

Vincent threw himself to the side of the room just In time to see the curse explode against the closed door. The distraction was enough for Hermione to give Riddle one last shove and free herself from his grasp, non-verbally summoning a shield for her and Vincent as she wrenched the door open and fled into the hallway. Their feet thundered against the stone floors as both students ran blindly, no destination in mind, just wanting distance from the murderer behind them. After several terrified minutes of fleeing, Hermione grabbed Vincent's arm and pulled him into a barely used store room. She slammed the door shut and fixed it with as many wards as she could think of before collapsing to her knees with a defeated groan, tears threatening to spill over any second.

She leapt a foot when Vincent's arms came gently around her. "It' just me 'Mione," he whispered soothingly. "I'm here now."

Falling back into his strong arms, Hermione allowed the tears to fall freely, her sobs faint but heartbreaking as she nested closer. "I'm scared Vincent...You should have seen his eyes. They were trying to claw into my soul. He's going to take me away, I just know it."

"Hermione this isn't like you," Vincent ran his fingers lightly through her soft curls. "You can't just give up."

"What am I going to do? I don't know how or why he is here and I don't know how long we have before he decides to drag me off to hell...," Hermione's chest clenched uncomfortably. "What if he does just steal me?"

"That's enough of that," Vincent reprimanded gently. "I'm not going to let him take you anywhere. We will find out how he is here and then he'll be the Ministry's problem."

Smiling weakly, the pale witch looked up into the wizard's icy blue eyes. "I'd love to believe you."

His hand rested gently on her face, this thumb caressing the soft skin. "Then believe me." Hermione's breath hitched in her chest, but for the first time in a long time it was not from fear; rather excitement as Vincent slowly lowered his lips to hers. Pulling Hermione higher in his embrace, Vincent savoured the feel of her soft lips pressed against his own, the exciting surprise of it all and yet a warm familiarity flooded his mind. His long fingers brushed lovingly through Hermione's hair as she sighed against him, resting her hands on his strong chest. A blissful eternity seemed to pass before, somewhat reluctantly, Hermione pulled away, her eyes wide and doe-like while her lips were tinged a deep rose pink.

"...Wow." she whispered faintly.

Vincent's face broke into a wide smile. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Well you caught me by surprise."

His fingers brushed gently down her neck. "And I hope to again."

Hermione blushed, trying to hide a joyous smile. "What's gotten into you?" she asked playfully. "You're not my shy, awkward Vincent."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all, just curious."

Vincent nodded softly. "I've been wanting to do that for some time Hermione."

"You have?"

"When I realised you were not only the smartest, kindest, bravest girl I knew, but also a witch...It almost drove me mad."

Hermione smiled up at her not so secret admirer. "I had no idea."

"That was sort of my plan."

She giggled. "Well you did wonderfully...Vincent, can we just stay in this room forever? Or at least until the year finishes?"

A cheeky, but adoring smile crossed Vincent's boyish features. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

After the interrogation she had suffered at the hands of Venna as she tried fruitlessly to creep unnoticed back into the dorm, Hermione was all too determined to stay hidden under her blankets for the remainder of her Sunday. Fate had other plans however as she was dragged from the loving embrace of her mattress and thrown into the sterile grip of a shower.

"Come on, come on we're going to miss the game!" Venna whined as Hermione clumsily tried to weave herself into a fitting deep red shirt.

"Oh what a shame," she drawled. "I hate these stupid school soccer games Venna, why are you making me go?"

"Because I just _have_ to see the look on Adrian's face when you turn up arm in arm with Vincent!" she squealed, earning a roll of the eyes from Hermione.

"You're sad, you know that right?"

"Trivial, now let's go."

Pulling on her shoes as Venna shoved her from the room and into the shuffling crowd of students, Hermione couldn't help but feel a girlish twinge of excitement as she carefully scanned the crowd for a mop of dusty brown hair.

"There he is!" Venna waved her arm above her head, making the rainbow bracelets encircling her limb rattle noticeably. "Vince!"

Hermione beamed in spite of herself as the tall, lean figure of Vincent wandered closer. He looked quite dashing in his black pants and slightly tight white sweater. Against the pale ivory of his clothing and skin, his sapphire eyes seemed to glow like mystic beacons to Hermione and she was only too happy to obey as she comfortably moulded herself against him, allowing his arm to encircle her waist as they walked.

"Can I just say that it's about fricken' time?" Venna giggled as they shuffled to the bottom of bleachers, eyeing Vincent and Hermione with an insufferably triumphant stare.

"No, you can't." Hermione cut her off simply.

"..Well I'm definitely thinking it." she sulked.

"I couldn't agree more as it happens." Vincent muttered impishly, kissing Hermione's forehead softly.

"That's just too cute!"

"Venna!"

"Okay, okay I'll stop...But it is."

As much as she resented being hauled out of her bed, Hermione had to admit she shared Venna's childish delight in the appalled look on Adrian's face as she passed the new couple, doing a comical double-take. "What the hell?" he choked.

Hermione smiled broadly, resting her head against Vincent's chest, unable to reach the height of his shoulders. "Good morning Adrian." she greeted cordially.

"What the hell is this?" he gestured between them with a crinkled nose.

"In a word?" Hermione sneered. "Karma."

Venna snickered and Vincent beamed proudly, clutching Hermione closer. "Something we can help you with Adrian?" he asked casually.

"Yeah actually, maybe you can explain to me why Granger would choose a weedy nerd like you over me?" Adrian huffed, storming over to the couple.

"I believe you just answered your own question." Vincent pointed out.

Hissing between his teeth, Adrian turned to Hermione. "What do you think you're doing? I told you I wanted you."

"You sound like a spoiled child Adrian," she said disdainfully. "Grow up."

"You're really choosing _him_ over me?"

"Every time."

Adrian's fists had clenched at his sides and Hermione was almost daring him to make a move so she could blast him back to the fifth century. Rather than fulfilling her wish, he simply snorted in a piggish way and threw his arms up. "Your loss Granger, your bloody loss." With that he stomped off to rejoin the flock of gazing fangirls.

"Woe is me." Hermione muttered, earning a grin form Venna.

"That. Was. So. FUN!" she cried happily clapping her tiny hands together. "So worth it!"

"You're a stirrer, you know that."

"Can you blame me?" she snickered, gesturing after a stiff huffy Adrian.

Hermione shook her head. "No, no I really can't."

"Girls! Mr. Dyson!" A booming voice cut over the chattering crowd and all three cringed inwardly as they recognised the tone. Sure enough as they swivelled their heads, the plump shape of Mr. Horton struggled towards them, bouncing several second years out of his way. "I have been looking all over for you."

"Oh come on sir, you're not going to ask us to rehearse during the game are you?" Vincent whined. "What about school spirit?"

"School spirit indeed Mr. Dyson!" he chuckled, stopping in front of the three clearly unimpressed students. "The Headmistress has decided that the play will be one month after our Halloween ball."

Hermione nearly choked on the air. "But the ball is only two weeks away!"

"Hence much more rehearsal is needed and I won't hear any words about it. Of course I won't drag you away from a school event, but I do expect you to do _some_ rehearsing today." With a nod, he waddled his way back out of the bleachers and Venna gaping after him.

"Has he completely lost it?"

"You assume he ever had it," Hermione sighed. "We're going to be stuck in rehearsals ever spare second at this rate."

* * *

Hermione was not far from the truth; the next two weeks were spent dashing from class to rehearsals and back, occasionally sneaking in a private moment with Vincent or to sleep. The only upside to their suddenly hectic schedule was Riddle had no real opportunity to corner Hermione again, in fact they had barely had any contact since the night she and Vincent fled from his murderous rage. Aside from the forced time in rehearsals, Hermione had been able to ignore his existence for most of her days. She had, however noticed the daggers he shot in her direction every chance he got, a look which only intensified when she was in Vincent's presence. So much that when it came time for them to rehearse the fight scene between The Phantom and Raoul, Horton had to drag the two boys apart; applauding their dedication to their roles yet suggesting they take a few calming breaths. Hermione and Venna simply rolled their eyes as the boys stiffly shuffled away from one another, Vincent placing a soft kiss on Hermione's cheek as he reached her.

"I think that is enough for today; it was a very physical rehearsal." Horton announced. "Now since tonight is the Halloween ball I'll let you off rehearsals, go out and have a good night tonight you've all earned it."

Relieved to hear he would not force them to miss the ball, Hermione and Venna quickly scooted from the class, throwing Vincent a quick wave as they disappeared into town, not having had the time to find costumes before that night. After sifting through yet another rack of oversized chicken suits and moth-ball stained tweed jackets Hermione shoved the wire hangers moodily back into the mass.

"This is hopeless," she groaned. "All the good costumes are long gone."

"Horton and his stupid Nazi regime for rehearsals," Venna wailed. "What are we going to do?"

Hermione's mind flew back to her last Halloween ball at Hogwarts and how she had conjured up the perfect costume in just a few minutes. A new hope trickled into her smile as she snatched Venna's arm and dragged her into a textile shop. "Pick a fabric, a colour and tell me what you want to go as."

"What? Why?" she asked as Hermione was already pulling of lengths of cloth.

"Because I got really _really_ good at sewing in my old school; I'll make our costumes."

"Before tonight?" Venna cried. "Really?"

"No worries, I promise I can do it. Just pick something."

Hermione and Venna left the store with armfuls of colourful fabric of all types and they dumped them on the dorm floor as Hermione fished out a sewing machine from Student Supplies for good measure. "Okay while I do this why don't you go get the stuff to do our hair?" she suggested and watched as Venna bounced from the room.

Taking the cloth into the bathroom and locking the door securely, Hermione got to work with her wand watching as the fabrics were hemmed, trimmed and styled mid-air and all by her will. After only fifteen minutes the young witch was left staring at two colourful harem girl costumes. Naturally it had been Venna's idea, but after everything that had transpired over the past few months she was all too happy to humour her friend. She emerged with the outfits and hid her wand just in time for her room-mate to come bounding back with an armful of electric stylers and cans of spray that intimidated Hermione.

"Okay I've got everything we'll need to-Oh my gosh Hermione!" The room rang with the clatter of tins as Venna dropped her hair products and examined the canary yellow harem outfit meant for her. "This is incredible, I had no idea you could do this."

"Glad you like it." Hermione beamed. "Now, onto the hair."

Venna was in her element as she waited for Hermione to wash her hair then then dried it and ran a curling iron through the long, honey locks. Hermione waited patiently as the steam rose from her head and past the mirror and she resisted the urge to jump up and see what was being done. Thankfully Venna did not spend an age mutilating her silky locks and when she stood Hermione was overwhelmed with the end result. Lose honey curls fell about her back and shoulders, reaching just above her elbows and swayed happily with her every movement.

"Do you like it?" Venna asked anxiously.

"I love it, really. Thanks Venna." Hermione beamed as Venna squeaked happily and turned her attention to her own hair. The Gryffindor witch found herself revelling in the overly girly experience of fixing hair, applying make-up and seeing just how big her bum looked; it was something she had been somewhat deprived of at Hogwarts and she didn't realise until that night that she actually missed it.

As she added the last touches of a lose, ash coloured powder around her eyes to create a dreamy frame, Venna appeared in her costume and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Her olive skin melded beautifully with the cheery yellow cloth and silver medallion trim dancing about her hips and bust. She did a flouncing spin before turning to Hermione with sparkling eyes.

"What do you think?"

"You look stunning Venna," she said honestly "Absolutely stunning."

Her tanned friend dropped her head with a small smile. "You're such a doll," she giggled. "Where's yours?"

Hermione eyed the purple and gold trimmed outfit laying on the bench beside her. "Oh, I just haven't got around to putting it on yet."

"Are you nervous 'Mione?"

She blushed. "No!...Well, maybe a little. I mean this will be the most Vincent has ever seen of me," she self-consciously crossed her arms over her stomach. While Hermione had a very desirable shape; she had never really lost the internal image of the plain bushy haired girl she once was. "I'm just not never comfortable."

Venna picked up the light, breezy top and held it out to her pale, doe-eye friend. "Your gorgeous Hermione, time you let the world know it."

With a less than convinced smile, Hermione took the top and slipped into it, cringing as the cold metal medallions brushed against her bare ivory skin. Her costume matched Venna's exactly except for colour. Both had a short sleeved top that cut off just below the bust and a long, flowing skirt with a belt of delicate medallions resting on their hips and under the bust-line. Across their faces was a veil that hung just below their eyeline and it too sported gold and silver trim. The deep, royal purple of Hermione's accentuated the flawless alabaster of her skin. Venna whistled as she appeared and met her with a wide, genuine smile.

"You're beautiful 'Mione."

"Thanks." Hermione shuffled in her bare feet, the right one was sporting a gold anklet. "What about the make-up?"

"Perfect, now come on or we'll be late."

Hermione attempted several times to turn, back but Venna simply wouldn't allow it and as they reached the entrance to the school dance hall her chest tightened nervously. The girls swapped excited and nervous glances before knocking to let some poor fifth year volunteers open the door for them. As the high double door parted, revealing a tastefully decorated hall filled with colourful and obnoxious costumes, several eyes turned to see who had arrived and soon many more followed.

Grasping Hermione's hand, Venna led both down the stairs and into the hall, trying to ignore the scattering of wolf whistles. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Oh just peachy." Hermione snickered, happy the veil would be hiding her reddening cheeks. She almost squealed as a hand came to rest on her bare waist and she was glad to spin and see Vincent smiling down at her. He was dressed as a Victorian hero from what Hermione could surmise with an open black, long sleeved shirt and tight black pants with a fencing sword sheathed to his hip. The tall deep brown boots he wore only served to make him taller still, but all in all Hermione was very pleased.

"You look dashing." she said happily as she planted a light peck on his lips.

"And you look simply incredible," Vincent stepped back, never removing his hands from her hips and looked over the costume properly. "Just stunning...,"

"Shush you." Hermione playfully hit his bare chest.

"Venna you look beautiful," Vincent added over Hermione's head when he noticed her friend was suspiciously quiet.

She perked up instantly and complimented his swashbuckling appearance before the three of them made their way to an empty table in the back corner. Hermione wrapped an arm around her stomach awkwardly. "I'm really glad they have the heating on in here."

Venna snickered. "Tell me about it...Oh Julian Fields is on his own!" With a vague wave she scooted off to keep her 'swim' partner company and left Hermione and Vincent to their own devices. This time Hermione did actually squeak as a pair of strong hands suddenly pulled her closer, she found herself flush against Vincent's body.

His soft sapphire eyes were filled with an odd intensity Hermione had not seen before, but she had very little time to study it as his hand slid up her back and behind her neck, unclipping her veil and bringing her lips to his with a hungry urgency. His warm tongue flickered across her soft bottom lip and Hermione slowly parted her lips, allowing Vincent to explore her mouth with a weak sigh. His gentle hands caressed the exposed skin of her back and waist, edging ever closer to the hem of her shirt when Hermione was forced to pull away to breathe.

She dipped her head modestly, clipping her veil back in place before looking at at Vincent with a loving gaze. "I take it you approve of my costume."

"Oh if that isn't an understatement." he said with a slightly husky voice. "I swear you'll be the end of my civility Hermione."

"Come on then cave man, let's dance." Hermione pulled Vincent out to the dance floor where a slightly jazzy beat was echoing through the hall and they were soon joined by Venna and Julian. The four teens danced several songs away, laughing and twirling through what they were sure would always be a beloved memory. Venna and Hermione swayed together, spinning under each others arms as they boys watched and laughed nearby at their beaming dates. Eventually Hermione found herself tiring, excusing herself from the dance with a soft, but lingering kiss before sneaking out onto one of the four balconies peeking off the hall.

She sighed into the night air, watching her breath fog before her eyes and finding an odd comfort in the faint hooting of nearby owls. The chill at her back suddenly disappeared as a pair of black clad arms appeared either side of her, trapping her against the rail of the balcony. Hermione smiled, leaning back into the arms of what she assume was her date. However as she felt buttons press against her back and a broader chest than she had expected, she spun instantly to find Riddle smirking down at her.

"Good evening Hermione." he said darkly, his sage eyes trailing along her partially exposed body.

"What do you want Riddle?" Hermione huffed, folding her arms over the bare skin of her flat stomach and trying to glare through her anxiety. Riddle was dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and a black and white pinstriped vest; with his luxurious black hair slicked back and styled he was the perfect image of a Mafia-era gangster.

"Well since we have had so little time together recently I thought I would..._seize _the opportunity," His tone was infinitely frightening as his body shifted closer to her. "And I must say, this is well worth the wait."

Hermione cringed as the Dark Lord leered at her. "You're disgusting." she hissed.

"And you, dearest, are ravishing." His icy hand rested on Hermione's lower back, forcing her body against his own while a hand at the back of her head stopped her from flinching away.

"Wh-What do you think you're doing?" She demanded, the tremble in her voice betraying her fear.

"Let's just say I am getting into character." With a lazy wave of his hand, Hermione watched in horror as the door clicked shut and was glowing a dull shade of blue.

"Vincent will wonder where I am sooner or later." She reminded him.

"Let him wonder," Riddle lowered his face closer to Hermione's, his breath tickling along her nose and lips. "Tonight, you're mine."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter will be slightly shorter as it is only a transition section. At this point I'd also like to remind anyone reading that I am adamant about keeping characters as natural as possible, so anyone looking for fuzzy, heart-warming Tom/ Voldemort I'd look elsewhere if I were you.  
**

**Chapter 9**

"_Vincent will wonder where I am sooner or later." She reminded him._

"_Let him wonder," Riddle lowered his face closer to Hermione's, his breath tickling along her nose and lips. "Tonight, you're mine." _

_

* * *

_

Fear gripped Hermione like an unyielding vice and she squirmed in Riddle's arms only causing him to grasp a fistful of hair to hold her still. She stared up at him, fear etched into her face, but flames dancing defiantly in her eyes. "What do you want Riddle?" she demanded once more. "Can't you let me have this one night?"

The future Lord Voldemort's eyes held a suffocating resolve as he tried to see into Hermione's very soul and icy fingers caressed the smooth skin of her back, causing her skin to crawl. "Your nights belong to me now," said deeply, his gaze never faltering. "_You _belong to me."

The soft spoken words repulsed Hermione and she stomped down hard on Riddle's foot, probably hurting herself more considering she had no shoes, but it seemed the shock was enough for Riddle to loosen his grip and let his hostage dash from within his arms. She knew better than to try and get through the magically sealed door and risk revealing the existence of magic to a bunch of tipsy teens. With that in mind, she leapt over the balcony railing, hissing as her feet landed on the freezing, dew covered blades of grass, threatening to slip from beneath her. The young witch quickly made her way to the neighbouring balcony and almost fell inside, composing herself enough to not draw any unwanted attention as she smoothed her hair and skirt.

Vincent however had noticed her disappearance almost instantly and was at Hermione's side in a heartbeat, taking in her worried gaze and shaking hands. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

She shook her head weakly as the balcony doors opened once more and Riddle entered, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he winked in their direction. Hermione could almost feel the fury radiating from Vincent's slender body as his hand clapped down onto her shoulder. Just as she feared her date would kill the Heir of Slytherin, Hermione's worry was lessened by the sound of someone clearing their throat over the microphone, directing all attention to stage with a howling metallic screech. She found a new reason to panic however as her eyes landed on the source of the announcement; Mr. Horton.

"This can't be good." Venna appeared at her side as though by wishful thinking alone.

"He wouldn't, not this early...Surely." She swallowed painfully.

"Anything for attention." Vincent growled. The girls knew he was right and watched with bated breath as he beamed down at the masquerading students.

"Happy Halloween to you all!" He boomed over the system, making several of the girls cringe. "I will not keep you from the festivities for long, just a quick announcement. This year marks the return of an Upper School production, featuring, as always our esteemed final year students. This year they will be performing, for your enjoyment, The Phantom of the Opera." There was a moderate applause, most of the students buzzing on smuggled alcohol anyway as Horton encouraged them with his overly wide smile. "Starring Miss Hermione Granger and Mister Tom Riddle as the coveted lead roles along with Mister Vincent Dyson and Venna DiAngelo as their supports."

The applause grew slightly, but Hermione was almost certain it was mostly from Tom's ever growing group of fangirls. She rolled her eyes as Horton basked in the rebound glory and heard a tired snort from Venna.

"So as a treat and a little preview for tonight-."

Hermione's blood ran cold. "Oh please no."

"He wouldn't...," Venna gripped her hand harshly

"I'd like to bring Mister Riddle and Miss Granger up here to give us a taste of what's to come in a month's time."

"No, no, no, no," Hermione muttered shaking her head as Horton beckoned her to the stage. Just as she seriously considered running from the hall or through the door, a hand clamped down under her arm, pulling her from the safety of Vincent's touch. She spun to see Riddle smirking cruelly and leading her up in front of the now captivated school. "Get your hands off me Riddle, I'm not doing this." she hissed venomously, trying not to struggle too obviously.

"You can't keep an audience waiting, _dearest_." Riddle sported a modest smile as he dragged Hermione beside him and faced the waiting, painted faces.

"Excellent, excellent." Horton chortled, backing away and urging the band to follow his lead. "From the middle of Music of the Night if you please."

_Of all the damn scenes._ Hermione thought bitterly, unsure whether or not she was physically capable of pretending to be in awe of Tom Riddle. There was a scattered applause and a light suddenly engulfed the stage surrounding them, blocking any audience from view and making the witch feel more cornered still.

Riddle on the other hand could not have looked more delighted as his menacing eyes basked in Hermione's obvious rage. With a flick of his hand the light dimmed ever so slightly and the witch opposite him gaped at his gall; using magic in front of a room of Muggles. Thankfully most assumed it was an arranged signal to the lighting manager and said nothing. "Shall we?" he prompted softly, holding out a hand.

"You'll regret this." Hermione seethed through clenched teeth before reluctantly placing her shaking hand in his icy grasp and feigning a look of shocked adoration.

Beaming, Riddle pulled Hermione gracefully along the stage; his eyes unrelenting in their gaze_. "_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes and let your spirit start to soar. And you'll live as you've never lived before." They paused at centre and Tom tugged on Hermione's arm, reminding her she was supposed to be softly drifting closer. Lost in the fear of how genuine his words sounded, Hermione hesitated if only for a moment before willing her feet to move.

With a huge jolt of will-power, Hermione shifted in front of Riddle cringing inwardly as his arm wrapped sensuously about her waist. With a forcibly endearing voice, Hermione pleaded with herself to fall into character, dropping her head back on his muscular shoulder. "Softly, gently darkness shall surround me."

Pale, spidery hands roamed from Hermione's flat stomach to her bare hips, lightly caressing as they blazed an icy trail. "Feel it, hear it, closing in around you...," his lips were bushing against the side of her neck as he spoke softly, yet clearly into her curls. "Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind...," Riddle suddenly yet elegantly spun Hermione in his arms, his hands locking behind her milky white back as she attempted to gaze up at him reverently without flinching. "In this darkness which you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night."

The frightened Gryffindor fought hard to stop herself from shaking, knowing deep down that the words were than just rehearsed lines for Tom Riddle; he meant it. He would try to force her into darkness, trying to convince her that it was her only salvation and, as the hall erupted in applause, Hermione felt her first real twinge of self-doubt.

As Horton waddled into the spotlight, Hermione was released and gave a rushed bow before fleeing back into the safety of Vincent's arms. They wasted no time in excusing themselves from the congratulations and questions; instead hopping the balcony wall and nestling in the gardens. "Aren't you cold?" Vincent finally asked, after several minutes of relieved silence.

"No...I'm fine." Hermione smiled, snuggling back into his somewhat revealed chest and disregarding the goosebumps scattered along her ivory skin.

"You were wonderful up there 'Mione, don't get me wrong the idea of Riddle laying his snake hands on you makes me physically sick, but you really were radiant."

"You're sweet...His hands were freezing still."

Vincent frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I should be off researching rather than dancing and masquerading around."

Hermione pulled Vincent's arm over her shoulder. "That's one option."

She felt his chest vibrate with a chuckle behind her and, ignoring the cold grass tickling her back, began to drift into calm dreams for the first time in a long time. Dazed on the border of sleep, she muttered vague answers as Vincent asked about Hogwarts and what she would miss until both fell into a comfortable silence. Another moment of indifferent peace drifted between them and Hermione hoped against hope that it would last an age. It was true she missed Harry and Ron dearly, more so troubled by the fact she had not heard from them in a while, but there was something to be said for the Muggle life. The simplicity, the freedom of it all was something she had sorely missed, whether she realised it or not. The juvenile fluster of dating, the touchable yet challenging task of studying the common world and, of course, the acceptance of everyone. No one cared what family she came from; there was no such thing as 'Dirty Blood' in this world.

_...Perhaps I should stay?_

_And live among filth, why not go the entire road and move into the sewers? _

Hermione sat bolt upright, shocking Vincent out of his dreamy daze. "What's wrong 'Mione?"

Her voice froze in her throat as her pale chest heaved in panic. "Get out of here," she breathed weakly.

Vincent frowned. "What? Why?"

"Just go please, I'll be fine, but go." Hermione begged, turning and shoving Vincent to his feet as she placed herself in front of him.

"I'm not leaving you like this, now tell me what's going on?" he demanded.

"Allow me." A deathly cold voice drew a scream from Hermione, jumping a foot as a bright light erupted from behind her, followed by a squelching thud. She turned her head frantically to see Vincent laying still upon the grass, his wand resting limply in his hand while a triumphantly smirking Tom Riddle stood over him.

"...What did you do?" Hermione gasped faintly. "What did you do?" She dropped to her knees beside her unconscious boyfriend, resting his head upon her lap.

"What was necessary." The Slytherin prince said off-handedly.

"Vincent...Please open your eyes...Vincent," Hermione held back frightened tears. "Please...Don't go."

"How pathetic."

Before she realised what she was doing, Hermione was on her feet, wand drawn which had been tucked carefully under her skirt and she threw whatever curse came to mind at the infuriating raven haired boy before her. Naturally they were all blocked with ease although Riddle was noticeably puffed when the barrage ceased, his eyes wide with a look that was too happy for Hermione's tastes.

"Perhaps not...,"

"What did you do to him, tell me now or I swear I will not miss again." Hermione's voice came out calm at yet dripping with unrestrained fury.

Riddle sauntered forward as Hermione stood her ground, fearful of what she may do if she dared to move. "I can feel the power flowing from you," he mused. "You're quite strong."

"Tell me Riddle."

"A stunning spell dearest, not a simple one, but your darling _boyfriend_ needn't come to any harm if you don't do anything stupid."

"You want me, not him, he's innocent."

Riddle laughed cruelly. "Hardly; I've seen him disappearing in and out of the dorm at ridiculous hours, clutching books that I am sure are not from Muggle libraries. You cannot tell me that has nothing to do with my presence here."

"Don't flatter yourself." Hermione bit.

"Now, now Hermione surely you are smart enough to know you shouldn't antagonise your captor." Riddle tutted mockingly, his eyes alight.

"I am not your captive," she said with an audible shake. "I see no bars here."

"Not all bonds are physical dearest; as I said your _boyfriend_ will only be spared from harm should you behave as I desire."

Glancing down at Vincent's pale, motionless face, looking so innocent and boyish as he appeared to be in the soundest sleep of his life, Hermione knew, Gryffindor pride aside, she could not leave him to the non-existent mercy of the Dark Lord. Not the man she loved. Squaring off her shoulders and lowering her wand to her hip, Hermione took a stabilising breath. "...What do you want?"

Victory grasped every feature of Tom Riddle's darkly handsome face and he came to a stop just a few inches from Hermione, his imposing height never more apparent as he gripped her chin in his fingers and brought her flaming gaze to his. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me." she gritted.

"And I want to hear it again."

"...What do you want?"

"Such beautiful words Hermione...Such a sweet surrender."

"Go to hell," Hermione spat, jerking her face from his grasp. "The second your back is turned I'll take Vincent and hex you back into your own time."

"We shall see, pet." Riddle sneered, flicking his wand at Vincent, levitating the motionless boy behind them before holding a hand out for Hermione who eyed it warily.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't think you are in a position to ask questions Hermione, for the sake of your beau."

With a heated huff and casting a longing look back to the rowdy hall, Hermione took her place at Riddle's side as his fingers clenched around her trembling hand. There was a suddenly jerk at Hermione's navel and the world disappeared from beneath her feet, her head and heart spinning frantically with every twist. And, as her feet slammed against cold stone, she knew her world would continue to spin for some time to come.

* * *

No amount of cursing or struggling seemed to help Hermione as robed wizards took Vincent's still frozen body from sight, leaving her surrounded by yet more concealed wizards and witches in the centre of a large foyer. The cold marble floor pressed against her regrettably exposed skin as she was forced into a kneel before the smug Junior Dark Lord. His cold emerald eyes were fixed soley on her slightly shivering form and blazing glare. Her pale shoulders were tensed with restrained fury and her fists clenched at her sides as Tom Riddle prowled closer, any trace of amusement wiped from his features.

"Knott, Avery bring me the cauldron." His icy tone rang out in the solemn hall and Hermione saw two Death Eaters shift feverishly to her right, reappearing with a large, bubbling pewter cauldron.

"My Lord." the murmured in unison, backing away in a bow.

"Bring her to me." The bulking man at her back hoisted Hermione to her feet and shoved her within a foot of the cauldron and Riddle. The Gryffindor struggled in her captors grip, but only served to worsen the bruises her was inflicting on her throbbing arms. She froze instantly as a frozen, spider-like hand gripped her chin harshly, jerking her head to the now sneering face of Riddle. "Stop struggling Hermione," he hissed. "You're finally going to get your answers."

He threw her back roughly into the grips of the wizard she now recognised as Crabbe Senior. "What are you talking about?" she demanded weakly as the slender figure stepped into the smoking cauldron, almost obscured behind the thick plumes of steam.

His eyes glowed an ominous red as the smoke licked higher until Hermione was left cringing under the gaze of crimson orbs. Riddle's body began to twitch and contort, his eyes never showing any sign of discomfort as the room watched in horror when his ashen skin began to visibly bubble. It took a moment before the young witch could fully comprehend what she was seeing, but as her distraught mind finally clicked into place, she realised Tom Riddle's skin was boiling off his very body, falling into the cauldron in large, nauseating blobs. Chalky chunks of flesh continued to drop, the rate only increasing as his body began to disappear among the now black smoke rising beneath him. Finally Hermione could not stand the sight of a human decaying before her and threw her gaze to the ground, shutting her eyes almost painfully tight. There was a faint hiss from within the smoke and Crabbe shoved her forward once more, causing the disgusted witch to plant her feet to the ground, refusing to go anywhere near the abomination.

"Look at me Hermione." An inhuman voice ordered. Hermione just shook her head resolutely and found herself pushing closer to the Death Eater at her back. "Look at me."

Crabbe's hand closed around her throat, forcing her head forward and, as he jabbed his wand into her back Hermione heard him mutter a hex, intended to stop a witch or wizard from sleeping, knowing it would force her eyes open."No!"

Her large doe eyes unwillingly landed on, not the gruesome skeleton she had expected, but not too far from it. Draped in an elegant black robe and twirling a wand between even longer spindly fingers, was the real Lord Voldemort in all his serpentine glory.

"Oh no...," Hermione breathed weakly. "It can't be you."

He chuckled and it was a cold, unhappy sound as he stepped from within the cauldron which was now emitting a sickening popping sound. "There is simply no pleasing you," his voice rang through the halls and directly up Hermione's spine. "You have demanded an explanation since we first met and now that you have one, you are still unsatisfied."

"You melted!" Hermione cried. "That's not an explanation, that's...Disgusting!" She struggled against Crabbe who still had his hand around her throat and a wand pointed into the small of her back. Lord Voldemort smiled cruelly, stalking closer as one warm finger rested under Hermione's chin, causing her to flinch instantly. "Don't touch me."

A long, powerful hand suddenly wrapped around Hermione's upper arm, jerking her away from Crabbe and into the grip of something far worse. She looked up to see his large, blood-red eyes flashing. "I could inflict far worse punishments upon you child, so be thankful for my restraint."

"You still need me," Hermione shot back, attempting to free herself. "So _you _be thankful for _my_ restraint."

Voldemort's sinewy arm clamped around Hermione, the soft warmth of his robe pressing against her bare stomach as she cringed. The heat from his flaming crimson eyes was almost tangible as the young witch refused to back down and look away. "Your death would serve my purposes just as well Hermione, remember that."

Her heart twitched uncomfortably. "Then kill me," she gulped weakly. "If it's truly that simple."

Once again she was shrouded in an icy, humourless laugh as Lord Voldemort threw Hermione backwards, stumbling into the waiting grip of a Death Eater. The Dark Lord sauntered over to the fuming girl, leaning close enough that, if he had a nose, they would have been touching. "The next time you ask for death, dearest...You had best mean it."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: This chapter may seem overly short, but it was initally supposed to be part of a larger chapter. After reading it I figured it worked better as a stand alone to really give you a feel for who/what Tom Riddle is in this story. So sorry for the length, but hopefully you enjoy it all the same. **

**Chapter 10**

_The Dark Lord sauntered over to the fuming girl, leaning close enough that, if he had a nose, they would have been touching. "The next time you ask for death, dearest...You had best mean it."_

_

* * *

_

There was not a corner in the mansion Hermione had been brought to that was immune to her angry, frustrated screams as she was dragged towards a small bolted door. She was thrown to the floor of a dank, dark scarcely furnished was a dark green cot, a solid dark wooden chair, a grimy basin with a chipped mirror and a small, cracked wooden door that Hermione guessed led to a pretty poor excuse for an en suite. The room smelt of dirt and rain, judging by the number of flights of stairs she had been dragged down, the witch was all but certain she was in the dungeons. Throwing her long honey locks over her shoulders, Hermione dusted herself off and examined what she had to work with; it was not a long endeavour. Aside the the metal barred door, which had been firmly locked and warded behind her, there was a small window, laden with similar bars and too thick to blast away. With lingering hope, Hermione tried a few wordless charms to move them, but to no avail and she was left to sit on the rickety cot and contemplate just why she was being kept alive and just what bargaining chips did she hold against Lord Voldemort.

The tiresome day, draining emotions and feverish thoughts lulled Hermione into a restless sleep on the uncomfortable bed, tossing and turning as she bruised her arms and hips on the unforgiving base. Her panicked dreams were brought crashing down as a key was heard scraping in the lock of the door and the creak of dusty hinges ajar. Unsure of just who, or what, had entered her personal hell, Hermione opted to stay still and silent, feigning sleep. She ordered her fists to relax and her breathing to slow convincingly as a shadow lingered over her curled body and the oddly familiar scent of smoke and rosewood wafted around the room. Closely followed by far less appealing aromas and Hermione suddenly knew there was more than one person gazing at her faux nap.

"Do we wake her My Lord?" a gruff voice attempted to whisper.

The was a beat of silence, just one, that Hermione knew would decide how soon her torture started. "Leave." A young voice answered.

"My Lord?"

"Now."

There was a shuffling of feet and robes before the hinges squeaked in routine submission once more and Hermione was left with, she assumed, Lord Voldemort. "You may stop the act now Hermione."

She clenched her eyes shut tighter in frustration before slowly sitting up, only to slam herself into the wall behind her as came face to face, once again, with Tom Riddle. "What happened to you?" she squeaked instantly.

Riddle's young, handsome face broke into an arrogant smirk. "Whatever could you mean?"

"You melted in that cauldron, I saw it...You were Voldemort again."

"A temporary relapse I assure you," he waved the accusations away with a graceful swipe of his hand. "That particular visage had simply run its course."

"...What do you mean?" Hermione's stomach roiled with possibilities and unrestrained curiosity that it seemed was destined to be unsatisfied as Riddle sat on the cot, ignoring her trembling question.

"How do you like your accommodations?" he asked with a sneer.

"Just charming." Hermione bit, pushing herself flat against the wall. "What the hell am I doing here Riddle, why were you at my school and where is Vincent?"

Tom's nose wrinkled distastefully at the mention of the Gryffindor's beau, but he covered it quickly with a melodramatic sigh. "So many questions Hermione, can we simply not just spend some time enjoy each other's company?"

"What's there to enjoy?" she hissed.

Riddle chuckled and nodded lightly. "You are here to help me with a certain spell I have been perfecting, I was at your school because it was a necessary step to obtain you and _Vincent_ is here to be my human guinea pig and to stop you from doing anything foolish...Like trying to escape." His sage eyes flashed a sinister red at his final words and Hermione found herself flinching.

"You can't keep me here Riddle, someone will notice the three of us are missing; you don't think Professor Dumbledore will put it all together?"

"I won't argue the old coot would probably surmise the truth if he were to hear of your disappearance, but it is not something I advise you pin your hopes on."

Cold fear gripped Hermione's insides as she swallowed thickly. "Why not?"

A sickening smirk covered Riddle's face as he conjured a mirror into the room, depicting her beautiful Muggle school and...Herself and Vincent walking back from the ball hand in hand. Her shock and confusion must have been written all over her face as Riddle began to chuckle. "Polyjuice is not an exceptionally difficult potion for a wizard of my calibre."

"B-But who?" Hermione stuttered.

"Bellatrix and Goyle.'

She visibly cringed at the idea of even a fake her parading around with Goyle Sr. "No one will fall for that," Hermione hoped. "Venna will know it's not us."

"Ah yes, Venna," Riddle displayed obvious distaste at the mention of the bubbly swimmer. "I had considered locking her up with Mr. Dyson, but I think she may be to preoccupied with her newest obsession to really notice the change."

Hermione's heart sank as she thought back tot he ball and how Venna was fawning all over the other swimmer; Riddle was right once Venna had a new boyfriend then she was practically in her own little world. No one would notice the change.

"What is the point of this?" Hermione snapped in her frustration. "To develop a spell? What kind of spell would you even need me for?"

"Questions, questions, always question with you it seems."

"And never answers."

"Now that's a little unfair don't you think?" Riddle feigned offence as he pressed a slender ashen hand to his chest. "After all, I did reveal to you how I am able to remain youthful."

"You _revealed_ a snake in a human suit, but I still have no idea how you did it...Or how you're still doing it!"

Riddle reached out and caressed Hermione's cheek with a soft, lovers touch and she recoiled further into the wall. "Is it such a horrible thing?" he smirked.

"You can put a viper in a bunny suit, but it's still a viper." Hermione growled.

Tom Riddle chucked at the analogy as he stood up and, much to her surprise, pulled Hermione to her feet with him. She squeaked as he grasped her wrist forcefully and pulled her towards the door, for some reason leaving her dank little room in the grip of Lord Voldemort did not seem appealing to Hermione and she planted her feet.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." she ordered, twisting her wrist in his grasp.

"You wish to stay in this room?" Riddle gestured at the grime covered walls and floor.

"I'm pretty sure mould would kill me slower than whatever is waiting for me out there."

With a sigh, Riddle jerked Hermione's arm and caused her to stumble into his waiting embrace, pinning her to his side as he dragged her from the room. Hermione watched in horror as she was pulled past several rooms just like hers, all containing beaten and bloody witches and wizards, beyond recognition their faces peered sadly at her through prison bars. No doubt they believed her to be the Dark Lord's next victim as they attempted weakling waves and others owed their heads in prayer. A tear slid free, splashing to the filthy ground as the last glimpse of a young wizard, no older than eleven or twelve, cradling a broken arm disappeared behind a thick stone pillar.

A wild rush of fury overtook Hermione as she wriggled free of her captors grasp. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she screeched.

Riddle merely cocked a curious eyebrow.

"Those people in there are human beings, what right to you have locking them up and torturing them? One was just a little boy! Just because no one cared for you when you were a child does not mean you can inflict that torture on another soul! How dare you ev-," Hermione's emotion fuelled rant was cut cruelly short as a strong hand collided with her cheek, sending her to the ground and she scraped her palms trying to catch herself.

As she gently cupped her stinging cheek, Riddle crouched to eye level, his own flashing a violent red once more. He gripped Hermione's wrist and pulled her hand from her face, gripping her chin in his fingers as he inspected the angry pink skin of her cheek. Hermione wanted to kick him, to flinch away but was terrified of what else may come of her continued insolence. "You will remember your place in my presence Hermione," he said softly, with a hint of danger. "I only need you alive, not necessarily in once piece."

Letting out a gentle sob as she was yanked up upright, Hermione allowed herself to be dragged up several flights of stairs, wondering just what fate awaited her when they finally arrived to whatever hell he had in mind. Something in the back of her head told her to fight, to scream, to just do something and yet the image of Tom Riddle melting into a cauldron, leaving only the skeletal figure of Lord Voldemort kept her somewhat compliant. Handsome and young though he may be, she was still dealing with the Dark Lord of the wizarding world.

A fact that was made abundantly clear when they arrived in the main foyer once more to see dozens of Death Eaters milling around, some talking idly, some dragging screaming witches and wizards down the stairs she had just emerged from. All dropped to one knee as Riddle and Hermione passed through, mutters of 'My Lord' could be heard as they ascended yet another flight of stairs only to finally come to a halt in front of a large, handle-less door. There was something inscribed along the archway it looked like Latin, but before Hermione had the change to translate it, Riddle pressed his hand in the centre of the wood and began to hiss. At first the young Gryffindor witch thought he had finally lost it, but as the wood began to glow and eventually fade under his touch, Hermione realised it was Slytherin magic.

As Riddle stepped forward to enter the newly revealed room, Hermione pulled herself sharply out of his grip. "There is _no_ chance I am going in there." she said with a fearful taint.

Riddle sneered. "Is my little Gryffindor afraid of the snakes?"

"One, I'm not _your_ anything and two of course I'm afraid of a room that can only be opened by parseltongue. " she said flatly.

"You have two choices Hermione," Riddle advanced until the witch was backed against the banister. "You can either walk in with me or I will carry you in."

Doubting that her regrettably flimsy costume would offer any kind of dignity should Riddle hoist her over his shoulder, Hermione sighed her surrender. "Fine...What's in there?"

"Life is more fun with a little mystery Hermione," Riddle stepped aside, motioning for Hermione to enter before him, only to grip her upper arms to stop her from fleeing.

"Get off me." she hissed, trying to free herself.

As always Riddle ignored the request and led Hermione in the open doorway. She stopped her struggling the minute her eyes truly took in the sight before her. Several glass cabinets were placed around the room, each containing a single item, the walls seemed to hum with the force of the magic surrounding the cases. Inching forward Hermione glanced into the nearest display case, only to see the venom stained, ratty diary that caused such havoc in their second year at Hogwarts. One case along contained an old, carefully restored locket that looked oddly familiar.

"It can't be," Hermione's insides twitched uncomfortably. "The Horcruxes...,"

"Since you and Potter were so diligent at breaking through my wards I thought it best to keep them close for now."

"...But the book is useless and the ring. Harry destroyed them both." Hermione said shakily as her eyes landed on the chunky piece of jewellery in question.

"But not the others."

Something fell from Hermione's chest to her feet as she noticed an eighth case, lit, but empty. "Wh-what about that one?" she asked nervously.

"That one," Riddle brushed the hair from Hermione's shoulder. "Is why you are here."

An unpleasant chill crawled down her spine. "What do you mean?"

"The spell you're going to help me create will see to it that no meddlesome little child will ever discover my last Horcrux, even if every other is destroyed."

Hermione shook her head rapidly, trying to worm her way free of his possessive fingers. "I want no part of it."

"I did warn you that eventually I would stop asking your permission," Riddle whispered maliciously. "You will help me or your little lover down in the dungeons will die."

Warm tears prickled behind Hermione's eyes at the thought of Vincent left to die alone at the unmerciful hands of the Death Eaters, or worse, Lord Voldemort himself. Yet how could she be sure either of them would fare any better if she helped Lord Voldemort to create his new Horcrux, could she even do it?

"Why do you need my help?" she asked quietly, afraid of her voice revealing her fear.

"All good things to those who wait, dearest."

"What promises do I have that you won't just kill Vincent when the spell is complete anyway?" she asked, turning to face Riddle. "How do I know you won't just kill us both?"

"You don't," Riddle said cruelly. "So I would suggest you do not give me any extra reason to want you dead."

"What reason?" Hermione snapped, jerking her arm fruitlessly. "I was minding my own business, trying to piece a life back together; who asked you to come screw that up?"

The witch did not get her answer as a lean, powerful hand closed around her throat and squeezed, not enough to stop her breathing, but enough to hurt. Riddle's eyes were a murky shade of red and his face stern and unforgiving. "You forget your place once again Hermione," he seethed, fingers constricting further. "You will learn to respect me."

"Never." Hermione choked, screaming as she was tossed roughly to the floor, a foot pressing harshly down on her wrist.

"Your place is at my feet," Riddle sneered, Hermione curled beneath him, her beautiful flowing harem skirt spread elegantly around her pale, shapely legs. In his mind it was all to appropriate; it was just that fire in her eyes as she glared up at him. A fire he so dearly wanted to extinguish. "Be grateful I am only demanding your mind; your fate could be much worse."

Hermione cringed at the implication and shoved Riddle's foot away, scooting backwards quickly until she bumped into one of the cases. "Keep away from me." she hissed somewhat weakly.

"I can't tell you how perfect you look at this moment Hermione," Riddle mused, his deep emerald eyes glinting with malice as he stalked gently closer. "A strong, beautiful Gryffindor, curled in fear before me, entirely at my mercy and dressed so...alluringly."

In a feeble attempt to cover herself Hermione wrapped her arms around her exposed stomach and continued to glare at the dark wizard as he came to a stop just a foot from her. "I mean it Riddle; I'll help you make your damn spell but you stay the hell away from me."

With movements too quick for Hermione to dodge, Riddle's hand was fisted in her silky locks, pulling her gaze to his painfully. "You are mine," his voice was darker, more menacing than Hermione had ever heard it and she froze. "I will do with you whatever I wish."

Digging deep to find whatever courage remained in her Gryffindor veins, Hermione held onto her glare and spoke softly for fear her voice would betray her. "You have nothing."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"_I will do with you whatever I wish." _

_Digging deep to find whatever courage remained in her Gryffindor veins, Hermione held onto her glare and spoke softly for fear her voice would betray her. "You have nothing." _

_

* * *

_

Locked in a room papered with books with a large comfy couch and complete silence to wallow in was one of Hermione's recurring dreams and yet it had become an all too real nightmare. The heavy mahogany doors keeping her from the outside world had been thoroughly warded and Hermione had been left with strict instructions not to attempt any kind of escape. She spent the first hour scouring the room for any alternative ways out, intermingled with periods of exhausted sulking only to decide she may as well make the best of it before she was dragged back to her dingy dungeon cell. After delving into a thick tome on how to develop your own defence charms, Hermione eventually curled up, nodding off as she was all but swallowed by the feather stuffed couch.

As she dreamt of the soft grass of the Hogwarts grounds and the soothing liquid melody of the fountain at her school back home, Hermione was jerked abruptly from the safe haven of her mind and into the hell of reality as a door slammed rudely.

"Was that necessary?" Hermione groaned, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"It is not your place to ask." An arrogant voice made Hermione's insides clench and she looked up into the older, more arrogant face of Draco Malfoy.

"Oh Merlin, what do you want ferret face?" she dropped back into the couch without a second thought.

She suddenly shrieked as ropes wrapped tightly around her wrists and were pulled forcibly into Draco's waiting grasp. His grey eyes gleaming triumphantly as Hermione tried to struggle free of her binds only to find they burnt her mercilessly whenever she did. "Now that is sorted, let's go."

Malfoy dragged Hermione is his wake as she glared angrily. "What do you think you're doing Malfoy?"

"Following orders Granger, something you should get used to."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Because the Dark Lord demands nothing less that complete and unquestioning obedience."

Hermione sneered heatedly. "The Dark Lord can demand four heads and a tame Thestral, but it doesn't mean it'll happen."

Almost falling on her face, Hermione caught her balance as Draco abruptly pulled her forward, causing the ropes to singe her milky skin. "Watch your mouth Granger."

"Or what?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Something bad might happen to me?"

Before Draco could punish her again, they arrived in the centre of the large marble foyer once more, but this time the Death Eaters inhabiting it were ordered and bowed as the youthful Lord Voldemort entered. His steps were regal and his head held high as Hermione was pulled down to her knees as Malfoy bowed. She growled at the forced gesture of respect, something which did not go unnoticed by Riddle as his cruel smirk reached her angry gaze.

"I have gathered you here tonight to initiate another into your midst and under my rule," he announced coolly. "She will be used to secure the certainty of my immortality and, in turn, the hold of Dark Magic over this world."

There was a unified murmur of excitement that seemed to please Riddle as he nodded to Malfoy who yanked Hermione upright once more and escorted her to Riddle's open hand. He gripped the ropes keeping her complacent as scattered glanced scanned the beautiful young girls attire. Hermione had figured out rather early on that, for the purposes of demonstrating his control, Riddle would be in no rush to allow her to change in something less degrading. A once fun, harmless and flirty Halloween costume was now a symbol of her helplessness.

"Are you ready to join them Hermione?" the Dark Lord asked coldly, his eyes alight with his imminent victory.

"Never," she hissed vehemently. "You can't bind the unwilling Riddle."

"When did I ever express interest in binding you?" His tone scared Hermione to the point she had to stop herself from shaking. "That contains an implied equality, no my dearest, I intend to claim you."

"What!" Hermione cried, ignoring the hissing burns as she attempted to break free.

"Fight all you please Hermione, I do not need your agreement for this spell to take effect; just your blood." With a cruel sneer, Riddle turned Hermione's hands in his and pressed the tip of his wand to her palm, drawing it slowly across to her wrist as a blossoming trail of blood followed. She hissed her pain, but refused to scream, biting her lip roughly to swallow the agonising sound. Once a small pool of blood had begun to well against her pale skin, Hermione cried out as Riddle forced her to her knees, his wand still pointed at her dripping hand.

"Your blood," he chanted coldly, "Your life, all that you are belongs to me now. I am your Alpha and Omega and you shall remain bound, in my service, by my will until death takes claim."

"Until death." The final words were hummed among the still bowing Death Eaters and Hermione offered one last desperate attempt at escape as she tried to kick out and knock Riddle from his feet, but he calmly side-stepped her attack and just grinned.

"Let it be done." The young witch was forced to watch in morbid fascination as the pooled blood was seemingly absorbed into Riddle's wand. It glowed a sickly red before shuddering in its Masters hand and falling docile once more. It was a kind of dark binding that Hermione had never even read about, but she would not have been surprised to find it was of Riddle's own design. Her disgusted interest was snapped short as she was thrown to her back, her elbows slamming painfully into the ground as the Dark Lord loomed over her, his voice soft and calculating. "I told you Hermione; when the time came I would have you."

* * *

Shortly after yet another arrogant speech, Hermione was dragged, not back to the dungeons as she had expected, but to a small, less dank room among a swarm of similar ones. She was thrown roughly in by Crabbe Senior who left with a chuckle. Her new quarters contained plain bed with a emerald cover, a simple pine desk and a small bathroom. She barely had time to investigate said bathroom as cruel laughter and the slamming of a door drew her attention to the wall to her right. There was the unmistakeable sound of a body hitting the floor with some force and a sharp cry which made Hermione flinch. Whoever was beside her was undoubtedly getting a beating from the Death Eaters. She wanted to yell, shout, tell them to stop,but her intentions were cut short once again as her own door opened that smirking Dark Lord entered.

"What is happening next door?" she demanded instantly, the merciless laughter of the Death Eaters ringing even louder until the door was shut once more.

Riddle cocked a dark eyebrow. "Is that anyway to greet your Master?"

"You're not my Master, now answer my question."

Hermione gasped as her chest suddenly felt as though it was burning from the inside out, she looked down at her pale, exposed chest, but saw no physical marks. Her breath came out sharp and ragged as Riddle stalked closer, his fingers closing around her distressed throat. "Will you keep your incessant questions to yourself, Hermione?" he asked playfully, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

Tears beginning to slip down her flushed cheeks, Hermione reluctantly nodded and the agony in her chest was immediately gone. She took a deep, instantly relieving breath and scrambled away from her captor to press herself into the back wall.

"However, as it was initially part of my reason for coming here, I don't mind telling you that your darling Vincent will be sleeping next door."

Hermione felt her heart drop through the floor. "I-It's Vincent next door?"

"Indeed." There was no missing the mirth in Tom Riddle's voice and it only served to light the fire in Hermione once again.

"You petty, disgusting creep," she hissed. "What the hell did Vincent ever do to you?"

"He interfered with my property." The wizard said simply.

"Your property?"

Riddle closed the gap between them smoothly, reaching out an ashen hand to stroke Hermione's cheek. "You are my property Hermione."

She flinched away from his touch, her eyes never leaving his in her determination to burn a blazing hole through his head. "I want to see Vincent."

"In time."

"Now."

"Do you really suppose you are in any position to make demands?" Riddle asked, clearly not curious at all.

"According to you, yes," Hermione smirked. "I'll start working on the spell only after I have seen Vincent."

Riddle considered Hermione for moment, his eyes travelling over every possible line of her face until finally, with his usual slimy smirk, stepped aside and motioned for her to step away from the wall. With jelly-like knees and a racing heart, Hermione crept forward and shifted quickly past the Slytherin Prince to stand in the monotone hallway. A small group of Death Eaters were forming a half-circle around the open doorway, they quickly parted to allow Riddle and Hermione to enter the twin of the room to the right. Laying in the middle of the floor, clutching what was no doubt a bruised stomach was the panting figure of Vincent Dyson. Hermione ran forward, dropping quickly beside him as she nestled his head on her lap and brushed the stray strands from his face.

"Vincent," she whispered weakly. "It's Hermione."

"M-Mione?" he croaked, his deeply bruised eyes creaking open to peer at her. "Is it really you, are you okay?"

Hermione chuckled softly, tears forming behind her eyes. "I'm fine sweetheart...Are you badly hurt?"

"Just a slight disagreement with the hired help." Vincent whined as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, his bottom lip was split, both eyes were blackening already, his arm had a nasty graze in the shape of a boot and he was clutching his ribs awkwardly.

Hermione reached out and gently touched his left eye. "Let me help you?"

Vincent nodded slowly, cringing as his neck bent. "Please."

Working with wordless magic, trying to ignore the icy stare of Lord Voldemort behind her, Hermione gradually healed her bruised beau and smiled as genuinely as she could when he inspected his newly fixed skin. "All better." she murmured.

"My hero," Vincent pulled Hermione into a rib crushing hug, deeply inhaling the scent of her hair mingled with the sweet saltiness of tears. "I was so worried about you, has he hurt you?"

"I'd rather not say."

"He has."

"This is all very touching, but as I recall Hermione has work to do." Riddle's droll voice caused both students to stiffen noticeably. Vincent's grasp tightened on Hermione and he looked at the young Dark Lord with a poisonous stare.

"She isn't going anywhere near you." he growled.

"Oh let's not make this into a scene," Riddle sighed, twirling his wand in long, spidery fingers. "No doubt I will have to deal with my little captive complaining about it for some time to come."

"You're not going to hurt him." Hermione hissed, nuzzling further into Vincent's thin chest.

"There are far too many orders being issued in this room," Riddle clicked his fingers and a small swarm of Death Eaters appeared around the young couple. "And not enough of them mine."

Hermione eyed the imposing Death Eaters surrounding them and she fought back burning tears, terrified she would be removed from the arms of the man she loved once again. "I'm not leaving him," she muttered, afraid her voice would break. "I don't care what you do."

Something about seeing that spindly boy embracing what was rightfully his property caused a wave of rage to flood Tom Riddle and he stormed over to them, grasping handful of Hermione's hair. She screamed and Vincent swung, his fist colliding with the edge of Riddle's jaw, but the victory was short lived as the young boy was brutally subdued by the Death Eaters.

"Get off him!" Hermione cried, struggling as Riddle moved his hand to grip her throat instead, pulling her back into his body and pointing his wand at Vincent.

"You see what happens when you disobey me, Hermione?" he whispered harshly against the skin of her throat.

"Get them away from him." Hermione pleaded, struggling under his grasp.

"In time," Riddle sneered, turning with Hermione and leaving a gasping Vincent in the room with a crowd of riled up Death Eaters .

"No, no let go of me!" Hermione tried to free herself, but as the door closed behind them she was thrown into the wall opposite and pinned by Riddle's body.

Once again his hand fisted in Hermione's long, honey locks and pulled her gaze to his. "You belong to me now Hermione and you will get no mercy. You will not disobey me again."

"I d-don't belong to you." Hermione choked back sobs as she tried to glare.

Riddle stepped back sharply as Hermione collapsed at his feet, writhing under the searing pain of the Cruciatus curse as it ravaged her body. As a cold sweat broke out across her skin and she fought the urge to bite her tongue off, the curse was lifted and she lay trebling in a ball on the floor. Her breath came out short and sharp as Riddle hoisted her up, his hand gripping her arm roughly. She sobbed weakly as she allowed herself to be dragged away from the room and back towards the library.

"There is work to be done Hermione," Riddle reminded her coldly as he shoved her into a chair. "I suggest you pull yourself together."

"I won't help you." she whispered.

Riddle's eyes flashed crimson and his fist clenched around his wand. "Would you care to repeat that?"

"I-I won't help you," Hermione raised her chin and tried to quell the tremor building up inside her. "No matter what I do you won't let Vincent and I live."

Riddle gripped the arms of the chair, leaning over Hermione as she hoped she possessed some kind of chameleon attributes. "Are you suggesting I kill you now?"

Hermione gulped thickly.

"Because we did talk about that, did we not?"

"I'm telling you there is no point keeping both of us here," she corrected weakly. "If you're going to kill me after I help you with this spell then fine kill me, but keeping Vincent here won't make me work any faster; let him go."

Riddle considered Hermione for a moment, the broken weak tone in her voice and how she was desperately trying to force herself through the chair just to get away from him; she was truly frightened. Knowing he had the young Gryffindor under his control he nodded lightly. "Very well, if it will put a stop to these delays I will release him."

Hermione did not know what to say, she had not honestly expected her sad little ruse to work, but she kept up the appearance of a terrified little girl as Riddle straightened up and left her in the library to study. She wondered just what exactly would happen to Vincent and whether or not she had done the right thing; Vincent was free is couldn't possibly be the wrong thing, could it? Knowing her continued thoughts would only lead her around in frustrating circles, Hermione started scanning along the thousands of books Lord Voldemort had acquired by god knows what devious means. Some of titles she doubted could be found in the darkest, most hidden shelves of the restricted section in the Hogwarts library. Finally a thick, black tome caught her attention the gold scripting was flaking from the spine, but the young witch could just make out the title '_Darks Arts in the Pursuit of Immortality'._

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione groaned to herself. She propped the book up on her knee as she sat on the floor, leaning back against the chair. A few minutes of tense silence melted into an hour of blissful study as Hermione finally felt a splash of familiarity; huddled in a quiet room with a fascinating book. That small oasis was burned however as a shadow passed over her huddled figure to reach for a tome and settle behind her in the chair. Riddle's legs pressed lightly against Hermione's back and she instinctively shifted forward.

"Is he gone?" she asked softly.

"He is."

"Was he unharmed?"

"Relatively."

Hermione stiffened, but knew not to press the issue; Vincent was free now and that was all that mattered. "Where did you take him?"

"Take him?"

"Yes, when you took Vincent away where did you take him?" she asked slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"I did not take him anywhere," Riddle answered just as slowly. "I simply had one of my Death Eaters push him out the door."

Hermione dropped the book, rounding on Riddle with flaming eyes. "You did what?"

Riddle smirked down at her. "You told me to let him go, I did just that. No more, no less."

"You're pathetic." Hermione hissed.

She scrambled backwards as Riddle got smoothly to his feet, glaring down at the pale witch at his feet and she knew instantly she had gone too far. Hermione attempted to get to her feet only to stumble as she found her wrists were suddenly chained to the armchair. She looked down to see a thin gold chains wrapped around her wrists.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

"You still don't seem to have fully embraced my position as your Master so perhaps I need to make my point a little more dramatically." Riddle said softly, his ominous eyes glinting with unrestrained amusement.

"Get these things off me."

Riddle waved his hand loosely and the chains shortened, forcing Hermione to her knees as the dark wizard sidled calmly over, leering down at her. "You will learn to speak to me with the proper respect."

"By chaining me to a chair?" Hermione mocked, silently loathing that she was kneeling before him. "I'm not that weak."

"Clearly," Riddle cocked his head, his eyes surveying Hermione's royal purple harem robes as a small smirk crossed his rose pink lips. "Perhaps a little more emphasis."

Hermione's stomach churned uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"

Riddle pointed his wand at Hermione, who quickly cringed, trying to stretch the chains as far from him as she could. However after several minutes passed without any pain Hermione frowned, only to see Riddle eyeing her attire once more. Gasping as she glanced down, the young Gryffindor realised that although the style of her costume had not changed the colours certainly had. No longer was she dressed in royal purple and gold, but emerald green and silver.

"Much better." Riddle hissed approvingly.

"No, no, no," Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. " I am _not_ wearing this." The skirt was draped elegantly around her as she knelt and the silver medallions were cool against the skin of her torso.

"I think it suits you."

"You would." Hermione seethed. "Change it back."

Riddle growled within his chest and gripped Hermione by the back of the neck, forcing her forward as his crimson eyes drilled into hers. She gasped at the fury radiating from him and Hermione knew that with no Vincent to control her with, Riddle would just torture her. "You will not make demands of me, do you understand?"

Hermione remained silent, forcing herself to stop from shaking.

Riddle gripped her more harshly still, bringing tears to Hermione's eyes as she tried to stay strong. "Answer me Hermione."

"Go to hell."

"_Crucio."_

The chains pulling at her wrists, Hermione crumbled into a ball and tried her best not to scream, but unable to hold back pained whimpers as the vicious curse tore through her soul once more. Always threatening to rip her to pieces the magic was grinding into her every muscle, prickling her nerves until cold, sudden relief washed over Hermione and she gasped raggedly. Riddle crouched beside the panting girl, arrogantly brushing the stray silky locks from her flushed face. Hermione was too weak to fight back and settled for a feeble cringe which only earned a soft chuckle from Riddle. There was something infinitely satisfying about Hermione laying helpless, chained at his feet, something that induced an almost primal possessiveness within him. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, she was strong and, best of all, she was his.

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to start heeding my warnings." he whispered mockingly.

Hermione forced herself into a sitting position, shifting as far away as she could and trying to ignore the pangs of protest from her body. "G-Get away from me." she shuddered.

"Still fighting are we?" Riddle sneered as the chains detached themselves from underneath the armchair and found their way into his grasp. He stood, forcing Hermione to rise with him as the first real flash of fear flew across her face when he pulled her towards the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked shakily. "Let me go."

Riddle summoned the book Hermione had been reading and tucked it under his arm as she dragged the struggling girl down the hallway and back towards her room. However, as the neared the array of cookie cutter abodes, Riddle pulled his beautiful captive in a different direction. They passed an engraved door that Hermione immediately recognised as the Horcrux room only to be brought to a halt at the next door. It opened on a mental command from Riddle, revealing a large, morbidly dark room that just screamed Slytherin at first glance. Emerald green bed covers and arm chairs, a large silver cauldron perched atop a massive work desk as well as an ornate silver snake melded into the frame of a four-poster bed in the centre of the room. Just as Hermione had finished taking catalogue of the pretentious room, she found herself being pulled inside.

"What are you doing?" she cried again, planting her still weary legs.

"Lets not make this difficult, shall we?" Riddle have the chains a sharp tug and Hermione stumbled inside, barely holding her balance as the Dark Lord pulled her towards the solid mahogany desk and attaching her binds.

"Why am I here?" Hermione asked, pulling fruitlessly at the desk. "What's wrong with that sad little room you had me in before...Or the dungeon?"

"You're here to learn what it means to be claimed by me," Riddle said coldly, no longer looking at Hermione. "If I offer you a sanctuary or a place of your own then that offers you the chance to regain your strength. So you will stay in my presence until you can be broken."

"You won't break me Riddle, I'll do your research, I'll conjure the spells, but I won't belong to you. Ever."

Riddle threw the book in front of Hermione, it slammed to her feet as he glared at the feisty hostage; Riddle knew she was frightened, but until he forced her to admit it she would continue to disobey him. As beautiful as his young captive was, there was something infinitely more enticing about her mind, about her soul just begging to be broken by his hands. Even as she stood chained and half naked to a desk in his private quarters, she glared at him, she dared him to challenge her. "I could keep you...," he muttered.

Hermione frowned. "What?"

Riddle's eyes narrowed, but his sneer widened as Hermione felt herself shrink back against the desk. "Once my final spell is complete I could kill you or I could keep you...I am sure it would put a stopper in many of Dumbledore and his pet Potter's plans."

"Keep me?" Hermione spat. "You're disgusting! You don't just get to decide where I go like I'm a possession!"

Riddle stormed over to Hermione, slamming her roughly against the desk as he leant over her delicate frame, his eyes ablaze. "These chains are mine and you belong to me." he hissed.

"Get away from me, snake!"

Riddle chuckled within his chest, throwing Hermione to the floor and her chains rattled as she fell into a heap. Flipping her long hair onto her back, Hermione looked up with wide eyes as Riddle stalked ever closer, his eyes hungry and determined. "You look frightened Hermione."

"Keep away," she demanded once more, somewhat more shakily. "I'll study quietly if you'll just leave me alone, please."

"You will study and develop my spell," Riddle agreed, grasping a length of Hermione's binds and pulling her closer. "But it would be a waste if that was to be your only purpose here."

Hermione struggled, cutting her wrists superficially as she tried to pull away. "Don't you dare touch me."

Giving the chains one firm tug, Hermione fell forward at Riddle's feet as he crouched in front of her, cupping her chin firmly. "Still dealing out orders Hermione?"

She attempted to free herself. "Please, let go of me."

"Better, but I still see that fight in your eyes. Words can't hide it my dear."

"What do you want from me Riddle?" Hermione growled. "I have agreed to help you with this spell and stay in this place until it's done."

Riddle grasped Hermione's hair and pulled her face just an inch his own as a predatory look flashed across his deeply maddening eyes. "I want your complete and utter devotion."

Jerking back disgustedly, Hermione glared. "Why?"

"You're an intelligent witch Hermione and have so far been the brains behind many of Potter's infuriating attempts to stop me."

"They're only attempts if you fail." she sneered.

"Well no more," Riddle gripped Hermione's upper arm roughly and pulled her into his possessive embrace. "I will now be one step ahead of Dumbledore and his pet, because I have their secret weapon."

Hermione squirmed in Riddle's grasp. "I won't help you hurt them." she snapped.

"You won't have to; losing you will set them back enough without the need to acquire any inside knowledge."

Hermione thought of Ron and Harry devising plans of their own to fight Voldemort's dark army or even coming to find her and neither situation would turn out well. Before this moment she had never realised just how much her friends had relied on her to devise the plans and iron out the finer details; they would not be coming for her. Something clanged to the bottom of Hermione's stomach as the realisation hit her; without her guidance and with Dumbledore constantly disappearing on mysterious errands the boys would have no hope of finding her. Well no hope of finding her and surviving to escape anyway. It was up to her to find her own way free and warn Dumbledore that Riddle was developing some kind of pseudo-horcrux that could not be found. Her fearful mental circling was brought to a halt as Riddle's fingers began to gently trail down the bare skin of Hermione's back and she shoved him without avail.

"What are you doing?" she hissed weakly.

"You look incredibly alluring when you are draped in Slytherin colours and wearing that beautiful look of terror." Riddle muttered darkly, his eyes adopting a new kind of hunger that frightened the young Gryffindor even more.

"I am not afraid." Hermione said more to herself than Riddle.

"Oh but you are dearest, I can see it," Riddle brushed a satin lock from Hermione's face. "You are terrified of what may happen to you under my charge, what I might do to you. You fear being out of control, having no sway over where you sleep, what you eat or even what you wear." he flicked one of the silver medallions under Hermione's shirt mockingly. "You fear me."

Trying to avoid feeling the nerve Riddle had just sledge-hammered, Hermione did the only thing she could; she slapped him. Having gained enough slack in her chains to draw her hand back, Hermione brought it down as hard as she could across Riddle's face. Producing a thoroughly satisfying stinging sound and red print began flourishing on his pale cheek. In his surprise, Riddle had released Hermione's chains allowing her to shuffle away from the murderous glint in his eyes. As soon as he skin had made contact with his, Hermione regretted it; she was going to die. Screaming as the chains binding her burned against her wrists, the witch covered her face as they soon exploded into tiny golden shards. Knowing Riddle would be on her soon enough Hermione fumbled across the desk top, looking for anything to slow him down and finally grasping something which felt like an ink well. Throwing it in front of her, she got to her feet, dodging an attempt to grab her ankle as she ran to the bedroom door. She wrenched on the handles, but found they were sealed tightly, her despair cost her one second too many as a hand came from behind, closing tightly around her throat.

A cold voice whispered into her ear as another arm wrapped painfully around her waist. "I will give you something to fear."


End file.
